It's come to this.
The end.
In the end of 2008, I attempted to embark on a project, a personal project. Document something of note for every day of 2009. I wanted an MP3 blog filled with audio clips, streaming videos, tons of photos, my own edited videos, whatever. It was to be a media frenzy. In the "my own edited videos" department I have a few works, a few blogs with them. But to be honest, my computer crashed to the point where I lost Adobe Premiere Pro, my video editing software, and I also lost my video camera capturing software. I am basically SOL on that front.
Thank god the audio aspect of my computer is intact, though. This is the most important aspect to my computer. Everything seems to be in working order on this front.
I think I did well in the media department.
The main crux of the blog was to document the daily trials and tribulations of Patch. Where was I a year ago? Where am I now?
Truth be told: not in a very different spot.
January 2009: I was recording Schematics tracks. Three more were to be fleshed out for the project. "Typosgraphy" was the current track, and I was having a hell of a time working with it. "In Hopes to Mend" was also a doozie, and if I remember correctly, it took two and a half months to record that one song. "Switch" took two weeks. Go figure.
I sent the tracks over to Schuyler for mixing and mastering in May 2009. He worked for two weeks then told me he had to stop and start over due to him not being happy with the results of his mixing, and because of a large three month trip to Europe he was to be on for the entire summer. I basically sat on my recordings for this time, playing with Taylor's Lizard People project in the meantime. After Schuyler returned, we started on the project again. From late September until early December he mixed. During this time, I was also finishing up Lizard People recordings as a tit for tat with Taylor for Schematics artwork that he had agreed to work on. I finished Lizard People in late October and immediately set about getting the live band together for Patch.
November and December were full of band meetings, lunch meetings, changing members, rehearsals and seeing how everyone interacted.
Where am I now?
1) I have to move out of my practice space due to noise complaints by my neighbor. I have a new space ready for our moving in in January, however.
2) I have four members of Patch intact. The lead guitarist role has once again been left vacant. Matt Anderson leveled with me yesterday and thought that he wouldn't be able to do both his band, The Engagement, and Patch. I'm currently looking to fill the last slot.
3) Schematics will be finished in mastering the week of January 11th. The artwork will be finished in the next couple of days here, as Taylor will be bunking up at my house for the next week. During this time, we will be finalizing all of the artwork for the CD, and starting to work on the Patch website art.
4) To coincide with the Schematics release, I will be recording new songs to be released as free MP3's for those who buy the physical Schematics EP. Simple and minimalistic in nature, the music will focus on Ommission, a loss of words, a loss of my intact nature. It's based off of some recent personal events in my life that would most likely cause some mayhem if I were to describe them here publicly.
5) Patch Live 1.0 will be onstage early March. Schematics and Omiss will be released at that time as well.
Patch will be public March 2010.
It's been tough. Constant uphill battles. My day job mixes with Patch in the afternoons due to so many calls that have to be made, plans set in stone, coordinating schedules without losing my mind.
So, Patch is still brewing. It's farther along, of course, but mainly in regards to having a lot of it out of my hands. "Hurry Up and Wait" is the main line heard in the popular music world. Deadlines are met and then you sit on your efforts for awhile. You think, "Did I really need a deadline in the first place?"
With this blog, I also wanted to document my personal life. One last attempt, since I'll be setting all of these aspects of my life to private once Patch goes public. I wanted to talk about my work with children, my relationships, my family drama.
One of the interesting developments in the personal life realm was the realization of friendship I had with the Brotherhood, the people who all lived in a little house on Monroe Street in Northeast, Minneapolis. It started from Citizens Banned wanting to share a house where we would all live, breathe, and create together in one nucleus. This fell apart, and Taylor and I brought home two women that we had picked up at a dance club downtown. We had these two meet another close friend of me and Adri. We became inseparable in 2007 and 2008.
2009 brought an end to everyone living at Monroe. Everyone moved away, leaving me with the house for Patch purposes. Now that Patch has been given the boot . . . this will most likely be the last year for me at Monroe. It still offers me recording space, but at 25 I've grown and procured too much stuff that my room is stifling and suffocating. I need to move on.
With everyone coming back for the holidays, though, this blog ends. Karmath was a term I came up with relating to Citizens Banned, and it since has been ingrained as the story of the Brotherhood. The songs on the Karmath EP were all written at Monroe, they are all about the Monroe residents. Karmath the Blog is a written testimony to their existence in prose. And how much I love them.
A basic need in my life, one that I've searched for since I was a small child, has finally reached a climax, a resolution. I've found a group of friends that will remain the closest soulmates to my own soul until the day I die. People I will always call on. People I will always visit. People who will father and mother my children, and help out my own true family. They're all going to be at Monroe tonight for a massive New Years party. A true homecoming. A true hurrah.
My brothers and sisters. This was my document to myself that this is where it all became realized. 2009 was the beginning of a new era. Schooling stopped in 2006, leaving the Brotherhood. The school of the Brotherhood stopped in 2009. Now, for me, it's Patch. School: check. Friends: check. Career: ?
2010 will be a very important year. My dream will become reality. I will most likely change and grow in a way I never imagined. It's a strange frontier, putting a new voice out in the world like I want to do. But I'm ready.
I've got the friends to back me up. The people to call on when I need help and a break. Support. Everything has led to this point. 2009 is the climax to my youth.
2010 will be the separation of the man from the boy in me.
-----------------------------------
To fully wrap this project up, I've linked some of my favorite entries below. These represent some of the more seminal 2009 moments, an entry I'm proud of, something special, etc. Most days' entries I'm proud of, but these stand out to me. I've had three quasi-official relationships in the past year, great successes, great moments of fear and stress. Here it is, a recap in Karmath the Blog form of 2009:
1. 1/5/09: Polish Sausages
2. 1/6/09: Pi
3. 1/7/09: A Call to Arms
4. 1/21/09: Brigade of Mascots
5. 1/22/09: No Longer Striding
6. 2/7/09: Finally Striding
7. 2/8/09: Slithers and Dust
8. 2/21/09: Metafiction
9. 2/28/09: A Prologue to an Epilogue
10. 3/1/09: Mustaches and Mayhem
11. 3/6/09: Casualties of War
12. 3/28/09: Marathon Sprints
13. 3/31/09: The Sandwich Crust Epidemic
14. 4/2/09: Yo'plaited
15. 4/13/09: I Hoped to End
16. 4/24/09: Army of Darkness
17. 5/4/09: SUCCESS!!!!
18. 5/17/09: Broom Stick Revolver
19. 6/28/09: Liquored Truths and Glittered Booths
20. 7/30/09: The Coma Child Incident
21. 8/4/09: That Girl Interrupted My Great Balls of Fire
22. 8/8/09: My Visit from Beelzebub
23. 8/13/09: The Foreskin Debate
24. 8/14/09: Rats and Revenge
25. 8/17/09: One Dollar Baby
26. 8/21/09: Lizard People IV: The Final Showdown
27. 8/28/09: Fine Print of Obligation
28. 8/30/09: Polish Sausages II
29. 9/4/09: How the Swedes Kill Kittens
30. 9/18/09: West's Dead End
31. 9/23/09: The Missing Beak
32. 10/5/09: Hair o' the Dog
33. 10/18/09: Tainted Love
34. 10/31/09: Mainstream Mania
35. 11/12/09: The Cost of Noise
36. 11/14/09: A Day of Firsts
37. 12/6/09: PATCH LIVE
38. 12/9/09: Hi, My Name is Robert
39. 12/12/09: Smokey and the McMuffin
40. 12/30/09: The Anchor-age
------------------------------
And now, 2010.
Karmath the Blog will exist, but nothing will be added to it. This is the last blog entry.
Welcome to Circadia will now be the main blog. I will most likely have another personal blog, but it will be pretty private, pretty exclusive. For now, Welcome to Circadia will have to suffice.
It's been a good blog, this here Karmath. But I'm tired of working on it everyday. But I fucking did it! I . . . beat . . . you . . .
2010, bring it on. Time to step into the next era. A scary, strange, foreign era of my life.
This is Peter . . . signing off.
Ennio Morricone -- "L'estasi Dell'oro"
Showing posts with label Transcendence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Transcendence. Show all posts
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Egoless Clarity
To further elaborate on last night's events . . .
Standing on a lake in Madison, WI, the water became a moving mirror. Triangle shaped glass patterns fought to climb to the surface, creating a silent, chaotic war for miles around. The sun's color was just leaving the sky in the distance. On the other side of the lake, the lights twinkled and warped, the stars above blinking on and off. I found a light straight ahead of me . . . and meditated . . .
Immediately, all around the horizon, fireworks exploded, and the landscape lit up as if a vast napalm blast shook the Earth. The explosion flew across the lake. Just as it was about to hit me, the light sucked the youth of me. It took my fears, memories, happy times, sad times, and threw it into the one light across from me. A rumbling sound emitted all around, and finally, everything was inside the light pinpoint in front of me. One dot encapsulating my youth, ready to tap into now and then. I was now moving on. I was now in the next realm. 25 and ready to embark on the new me.
I turned around and saw my three other compatriots, who, no doubt, were experiencing their own ego removal. We then sighed, walked toward the Capitol and State Street, laughing all the while until we came back to the party we had ventured some 250 miles for.
It was a terrifying night, but a satisfying one. A happy one. What Halloween should be about.
Perfect.
Muddy Waters -- "Mannish Boy"
Standing on a lake in Madison, WI, the water became a moving mirror. Triangle shaped glass patterns fought to climb to the surface, creating a silent, chaotic war for miles around. The sun's color was just leaving the sky in the distance. On the other side of the lake, the lights twinkled and warped, the stars above blinking on and off. I found a light straight ahead of me . . . and meditated . . .
Immediately, all around the horizon, fireworks exploded, and the landscape lit up as if a vast napalm blast shook the Earth. The explosion flew across the lake. Just as it was about to hit me, the light sucked the youth of me. It took my fears, memories, happy times, sad times, and threw it into the one light across from me. A rumbling sound emitted all around, and finally, everything was inside the light pinpoint in front of me. One dot encapsulating my youth, ready to tap into now and then. I was now moving on. I was now in the next realm. 25 and ready to embark on the new me.
I turned around and saw my three other compatriots, who, no doubt, were experiencing their own ego removal. We then sighed, walked toward the Capitol and State Street, laughing all the while until we came back to the party we had ventured some 250 miles for.
It was a terrifying night, but a satisfying one. A happy one. What Halloween should be about.
Perfect.
Muddy Waters -- "Mannish Boy"
Saturday, October 10, 2009
.25
My birthday.
A new era.
How to celebrate?
How's about by combining everything I hold sacred: gore, death, decay, friends, Halloween, debauchery and mayhem. That's a birthday.
And Looooord Alllmighty, was I granted a miracle, son? Hell yeah!
It's called the ZOMBIE PUB CRAWL. And it might have been the craziest night of the year for me.
And the Lord granted another miracle: birthdays symbolize New Years for me. As in, it's my own personal New Year. New resolutions start to be realized and embarked on. Ironically, they're not thought of so analytically on my birthday as they are on the actual New Years, but that's when my resolutions and goals are met. The first entry of this blog I mentioned transcendence, and the hope of breaking certain dry spells.
Guess who showed up on the second New Year just like they did on the first New Year?
White Zombie -- "Blood, Milk, and Sky"
A new era.
How to celebrate?
How's about by combining everything I hold sacred: gore, death, decay, friends, Halloween, debauchery and mayhem. That's a birthday.
And Looooord Alllmighty, was I granted a miracle, son? Hell yeah!
It's called the ZOMBIE PUB CRAWL. And it might have been the craziest night of the year for me.
And the Lord granted another miracle: birthdays symbolize New Years for me. As in, it's my own personal New Year. New resolutions start to be realized and embarked on. Ironically, they're not thought of so analytically on my birthday as they are on the actual New Years, but that's when my resolutions and goals are met. The first entry of this blog I mentioned transcendence, and the hope of breaking certain dry spells.Guess who showed up on the second New Year just like they did on the first New Year?
White Zombie -- "Blood, Milk, and Sky"
Monday, August 3, 2009
50 Egg Challenge
A voice inside stepped into the light. He faced the council harboring the law of the brain. Harboring both reason and lust at bay. It seemed that so far Reason and Lust were at odds, fighting over their claim to the throne when it came to the topic of a blond angel.
The Chairman spoke: "And who are you?"
Tiny Voice: "My name is not important, sir. I'm merely another synapse passing through."
Chairman: "What would you like to say to the council?"
Tiny Voice: "I'd like to propose a wager."
Chairman: "A wager?! My dear sir, we are not in the business of making bets on petty sinful gaming schemes! We're proper here--"
Tiny Voice: "Oh really?! Then why hasn't the court come to a decision regarding the girl?! It's already been a month, and it's been taking up most of our resources, draining power away from the job search campaign and creativity."
Chairman: "We will not be lectured on our failings nor our successes, my young friend. If you are going to go on with this stunt, then--"
Tiny Voice: "Fifty eggs!"
Chairman: "What? Speak up, man, you're speaking gibberish!"
Tiny Voice: "Fifty eggs equals fifty days!!"
Chairman: "Will someone tell me what the hell he's talking about?!"
Eyes: "There is some relevance to what he's saying, sir. It appears that a motion picture, currently being watched, has sparked a small influx of activity within the logic quadrants of the Headquarters. A man in the film has just accepted a challenge of eating fifty eggs in one hour, and it has sparked our vessel to produce this new voice in our presence."
Tiny Voice: "Quite right. I raise a wager of fifty days! If our vessel can hold out for fifty days without the touch of the girl, Reason and Lust must sign a Cease Fire agreement."
Chairman: "Absurd! A bet?!"
Tiny Voice's Sister: "Where are you, Chairman?! You've inhabited a young man. Two years ago you took office, and most of the loins beneath have not worked a day. Just this month the loins quota has nearly quintrupled in activity!!! They've been given work! And you just want to throw a chance like this away!!"
Chairman: "I'm sure the loins will survive in the near future if we don't see to this bet. That's why I find this bet ludicrous! Your precious loins will all come down with a case of blue balled unemployment if we agree to this foolish game!"
Tiny Voice's Sister: "And for how much longer? Sir, despite the recent activity throughout the body's hormonic division, my brother and I fear that you are putting everyone at risk for another drought brought on by the Wrenchman, including potential death by the shotgun kept in his closet due to the Wrenchman's Jealousy Overhaul!"
Chairman: "And what if the Wrenchman wins back our girl during this time? Our girl will most surely look for sustenance within the clutches of the Wrenchman!"
Tiny Voice: "It's either one week more of slow work where Lust will drain due to the Emotional Baggage Bombs thrown down from Reason, or a plethora of work after the fifty days, when the girl potentially takes up residency wihin the Lovelife Vacancy."
Chairman: "Can't we find other vessels to suffice this vacancy?"
Tiny Voice: "We've tried sir. But you run your Logic Department so dry with overwork that the Anxiety Trashpile has been peaking in the red, prompting our vessel to never want to leave his room. We're about to have a major disaster within Logic. We fear lunacy is imminent."
Chairman: "What is this?! Are you trying to burn me at the stake? This is not about me!"
Tiny Voice's Sister: "IT IS ABOUT YOU!!! IT'S ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT YOU!!! WE WANT YOU OUT!!! OUT!!! OUUUUUUT!!!!"
Chairman: "I recognize your brother . . . he's . . . the one I took the position from, the former chairman."
Tiny Voice: "It's time you step down, Baxter."
Chairman: "NO!"
Tiny Voice: "Ladies and Gentlemen, feast your eyes on Baxter, the former Logic Warden. He ran that department into the ground five years ago, creating the Great Panic of 2004. Since we've been busy rebuilding, he's climbed his way to the top of the Council Chair, slipping underneath our radar, not doing damage himself, but instructing others to do so. Why do you think we've felt so lethargic these last five years? It's over, people! YOU'RE THROUGH, BAXTER!!!"
Baxter: "You'll never catch me!! I'll morph once again, taking over another important department with a new disguise!!!"
Loins President: "No . . . " (He shoots Baxter in the chest with a revolver)
Baxter: "GASP!! I just . . . wanted . . . to help . . ." (He dies)
Loins President: "Go ahead, Chaplin. Take the throne."
Tiny Voice (Chaplin): "Gladly, sir!"
(The crowd cheers)
Tiny Voice: "It's a new era, people! It's time we got back on the right footing! Just like we started on so long ago! Sorry for the delay, but I think we can manage! Starting with this fifty days wager! All in favor?"
Crowd: "AYE!!"
Chaplin: "Against?"
(No sound)
Chaplin: "Then let us commence the wager! This meeting is adjourned until fifty days' time!"
(The gavel sounds, and the council room is full of glorious uproar!)
Bowerbirds -- "Northern Lights"
The Chairman spoke: "And who are you?"
Tiny Voice: "My name is not important, sir. I'm merely another synapse passing through."
Chairman: "What would you like to say to the council?"
Tiny Voice: "I'd like to propose a wager."
Chairman: "A wager?! My dear sir, we are not in the business of making bets on petty sinful gaming schemes! We're proper here--"
Tiny Voice: "Oh really?! Then why hasn't the court come to a decision regarding the girl?! It's already been a month, and it's been taking up most of our resources, draining power away from the job search campaign and creativity."
Chairman: "We will not be lectured on our failings nor our successes, my young friend. If you are going to go on with this stunt, then--"
Tiny Voice: "Fifty eggs!"
Chairman: "What? Speak up, man, you're speaking gibberish!"
Tiny Voice: "Fifty eggs equals fifty days!!"
Chairman: "Will someone tell me what the hell he's talking about?!"
Eyes: "There is some relevance to what he's saying, sir. It appears that a motion picture, currently being watched, has sparked a small influx of activity within the logic quadrants of the Headquarters. A man in the film has just accepted a challenge of eating fifty eggs in one hour, and it has sparked our vessel to produce this new voice in our presence."
Tiny Voice: "Quite right. I raise a wager of fifty days! If our vessel can hold out for fifty days without the touch of the girl, Reason and Lust must sign a Cease Fire agreement."
Chairman: "Absurd! A bet?!"
Tiny Voice's Sister: "Where are you, Chairman?! You've inhabited a young man. Two years ago you took office, and most of the loins beneath have not worked a day. Just this month the loins quota has nearly quintrupled in activity!!! They've been given work! And you just want to throw a chance like this away!!"
Chairman: "I'm sure the loins will survive in the near future if we don't see to this bet. That's why I find this bet ludicrous! Your precious loins will all come down with a case of blue balled unemployment if we agree to this foolish game!"
Tiny Voice's Sister: "And for how much longer? Sir, despite the recent activity throughout the body's hormonic division, my brother and I fear that you are putting everyone at risk for another drought brought on by the Wrenchman, including potential death by the shotgun kept in his closet due to the Wrenchman's Jealousy Overhaul!"
Chairman: "And what if the Wrenchman wins back our girl during this time? Our girl will most surely look for sustenance within the clutches of the Wrenchman!"
Tiny Voice: "It's either one week more of slow work where Lust will drain due to the Emotional Baggage Bombs thrown down from Reason, or a plethora of work after the fifty days, when the girl potentially takes up residency wihin the Lovelife Vacancy."
Chairman: "Can't we find other vessels to suffice this vacancy?"
Tiny Voice: "We've tried sir. But you run your Logic Department so dry with overwork that the Anxiety Trashpile has been peaking in the red, prompting our vessel to never want to leave his room. We're about to have a major disaster within Logic. We fear lunacy is imminent."
Chairman: "What is this?! Are you trying to burn me at the stake? This is not about me!"
Tiny Voice's Sister: "IT IS ABOUT YOU!!! IT'S ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT YOU!!! WE WANT YOU OUT!!! OUT!!! OUUUUUUT!!!!"
Chairman: "I recognize your brother . . . he's . . . the one I took the position from, the former chairman."
Tiny Voice: "It's time you step down, Baxter."
Chairman: "NO!"
Tiny Voice: "Ladies and Gentlemen, feast your eyes on Baxter, the former Logic Warden. He ran that department into the ground five years ago, creating the Great Panic of 2004. Since we've been busy rebuilding, he's climbed his way to the top of the Council Chair, slipping underneath our radar, not doing damage himself, but instructing others to do so. Why do you think we've felt so lethargic these last five years? It's over, people! YOU'RE THROUGH, BAXTER!!!"
Baxter: "You'll never catch me!! I'll morph once again, taking over another important department with a new disguise!!!"
Loins President: "No . . . " (He shoots Baxter in the chest with a revolver)
Baxter: "GASP!! I just . . . wanted . . . to help . . ." (He dies)
Loins President: "Go ahead, Chaplin. Take the throne."
Tiny Voice (Chaplin): "Gladly, sir!"
(The crowd cheers)
Tiny Voice: "It's a new era, people! It's time we got back on the right footing! Just like we started on so long ago! Sorry for the delay, but I think we can manage! Starting with this fifty days wager! All in favor?"
Crowd: "AYE!!"
Chaplin: "Against?"
(No sound)
Chaplin: "Then let us commence the wager! This meeting is adjourned until fifty days' time!"
(The gavel sounds, and the council room is full of glorious uproar!)
Bowerbirds -- "Northern Lights"
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Ghosts of the Glen
"Pete, man, I'm not gonna lie, I've got my knife in my hand right now."
The thrill lept up. The mention of a knife added to the trepidation of the night. We were standing on the pathway of a dark nature reserve walk, at the mouth of a woods spelling certain foreboding creep factor excitement. This was a place of fear, of hope, of my youth. If there was ever a location that could be the physical manifestation of my darker self, Hawthorn Glen would be the place.
I jumped up in glee. "Dude, seriously, it's fun, it's fun! Let's try it, if you get too scared we'll turn back. I promise."
"No, Pete, man, no. I . . . I don't feel good about this one. Sorry. Sorry, I can't do it."
I gave up. Mainly because he was right. I wanted to walk the dark trails at 2:00am, the trails I used to traverse at the same time of night while in high school. This park was the most interesting destination my group of friends could decide on going to each night while indulging in underage drinking, theft, drug deals, pot smoking, sex, and talks of the future. This was the most interesting summer of my formative years. All summed up in the trails of Hawthorn Glen.
Anybody can tell you that there is a strange vibe to that place. It's a park nestled in the middle of a horseshoe shaped hill covered in dark trees. An eerie coolness blankets the field, complete with slight fog, an effect of the glen. Located in Miller Valley, an unofficial landmark connecting Milwaukee to its suburban sister Wauwatosa, it reeks of conflict. Suburban dwellers mixing with inner city youth. More importantly, child ignorance mixing with adult revelation. This is the place I visit when I'm in personal turmoil, the place I go to when trying to scale obstacles.
It was the secret I kept while I was a Tae Kwon Do instructor and avid student. Parents and masters be damned, if only they knew where I was every night. I met some of the strangest people in 2001, people who lived right outside the perimeter of this park. Drunken fathers who pissed on their car tires with one hand and shook your own with their free hand when they met you for the first time out on their front yards. People who pointed at you and yelled "NIGGER!" to get their pit bull to start running at you teeth bared before yelling "STOP!" just as the dog came within inches of ripping off the flesh on your arms. Girls who thought of rape and sexual coercion as the normal way to have sex, reaping the benefits of their sexual purgatory in the form of small children held in the crooks of their arms.
This was also the year I visited South Korea with my Tae Kwon Do school. The most grandiose trip I've ever taken, complete with buddhist temple residencies, training with the Tae Kwon Do Olympic team, seeing the headquarters for Tae Kwon Do, and visiting time and again the indoor theme park in Lotte World (with father/son, peer debauchery, and first date scenarios involved). Still, the exploits surrounding Hawthorn Glen are the reason that summer was one of the more seminal summers of my life.
Last night I visited the park again with one of the companions I had while travelling to Korea. He considered Korea, that particular visit, to be the best moment of his life. It ranks second with me, because the park was better. And now he was holding a knife in his pocket, obviously picking up on the power of the Glen.
That was the summer my boss, Chan, started showing signs that he would forever be my main idol. When I became one of the lead teachers of the chain, at age 16, teaching marines, children, young and old alike. The year I had my first girlfriend. The year I started taking drugs. The year I fell into politics. Developed opinions on religion. Came out of a grade funk and went back to being a straight A and B student.
Implanted within me, come the time of 9/11, I felt the beginnings of the demons I would carry with me until this day. The ones that make you into an adult. The ones I still can't seem to flesh out. The ones that inspire the music, the art, me.
They all came from Hawthorn Glen.
"You doing okay?" I asked him as we were a block away.
He shook. "Yeah. Holy shit, that place was weird."
Happy July 4th, indeed.
*Excuse the MP3 choice for today. It was a seminal track for the time period of '01 for me and my crew, and might be Mr. Durst's only good song. That, and Weiland's vocals are pretty strikingly beautiful*
Limp Bizkit (Feat. Scott Weiland) -- "Hold On"
The thrill lept up. The mention of a knife added to the trepidation of the night. We were standing on the pathway of a dark nature reserve walk, at the mouth of a woods spelling certain foreboding creep factor excitement. This was a place of fear, of hope, of my youth. If there was ever a location that could be the physical manifestation of my darker self, Hawthorn Glen would be the place.
I jumped up in glee. "Dude, seriously, it's fun, it's fun! Let's try it, if you get too scared we'll turn back. I promise."
"No, Pete, man, no. I . . . I don't feel good about this one. Sorry. Sorry, I can't do it."
I gave up. Mainly because he was right. I wanted to walk the dark trails at 2:00am, the trails I used to traverse at the same time of night while in high school. This park was the most interesting destination my group of friends could decide on going to each night while indulging in underage drinking, theft, drug deals, pot smoking, sex, and talks of the future. This was the most interesting summer of my formative years. All summed up in the trails of Hawthorn Glen.
Anybody can tell you that there is a strange vibe to that place. It's a park nestled in the middle of a horseshoe shaped hill covered in dark trees. An eerie coolness blankets the field, complete with slight fog, an effect of the glen. Located in Miller Valley, an unofficial landmark connecting Milwaukee to its suburban sister Wauwatosa, it reeks of conflict. Suburban dwellers mixing with inner city youth. More importantly, child ignorance mixing with adult revelation. This is the place I visit when I'm in personal turmoil, the place I go to when trying to scale obstacles.
It was the secret I kept while I was a Tae Kwon Do instructor and avid student. Parents and masters be damned, if only they knew where I was every night. I met some of the strangest people in 2001, people who lived right outside the perimeter of this park. Drunken fathers who pissed on their car tires with one hand and shook your own with their free hand when they met you for the first time out on their front yards. People who pointed at you and yelled "NIGGER!" to get their pit bull to start running at you teeth bared before yelling "STOP!" just as the dog came within inches of ripping off the flesh on your arms. Girls who thought of rape and sexual coercion as the normal way to have sex, reaping the benefits of their sexual purgatory in the form of small children held in the crooks of their arms.
This was also the year I visited South Korea with my Tae Kwon Do school. The most grandiose trip I've ever taken, complete with buddhist temple residencies, training with the Tae Kwon Do Olympic team, seeing the headquarters for Tae Kwon Do, and visiting time and again the indoor theme park in Lotte World (with father/son, peer debauchery, and first date scenarios involved). Still, the exploits surrounding Hawthorn Glen are the reason that summer was one of the more seminal summers of my life.
Last night I visited the park again with one of the companions I had while travelling to Korea. He considered Korea, that particular visit, to be the best moment of his life. It ranks second with me, because the park was better. And now he was holding a knife in his pocket, obviously picking up on the power of the Glen.
That was the summer my boss, Chan, started showing signs that he would forever be my main idol. When I became one of the lead teachers of the chain, at age 16, teaching marines, children, young and old alike. The year I had my first girlfriend. The year I started taking drugs. The year I fell into politics. Developed opinions on religion. Came out of a grade funk and went back to being a straight A and B student.
Implanted within me, come the time of 9/11, I felt the beginnings of the demons I would carry with me until this day. The ones that make you into an adult. The ones I still can't seem to flesh out. The ones that inspire the music, the art, me.
They all came from Hawthorn Glen.
"You doing okay?" I asked him as we were a block away.
He shook. "Yeah. Holy shit, that place was weird."
Happy July 4th, indeed.
*Excuse the MP3 choice for today. It was a seminal track for the time period of '01 for me and my crew, and might be Mr. Durst's only good song. That, and Weiland's vocals are pretty strikingly beautiful*
Limp Bizkit (Feat. Scott Weiland) -- "Hold On"
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Dance of the Invisible
Transcendence is an invisible force. It works its magic slowly, unbeknownst to the host. Commencing a transcend dance around the subject in quick, graceful strides, like Superman going back through time by flying around the Earth in a counter-rotation pattern, changing fate, changing the face of things, creating a catalyst for the next step or chapter in the essence of life.
2009 has proven to be the bringer of change. Karmath pertains to friendship and the loss of friendship. Brothers and sisters have announced their departure at the end of the summer. Karmath pertains to learning valuable lessons the hard way. Dealing with the departure not in small steps, but in one vast "up-and-adam". Karmath shows the way one must travel in order to grow. It also shows the way to hinder growth, but it doesn't announce which path is which.
The name Karmath is obviously derived from Karma and math. When pertaining to me, I view the essence of combining the two (spiritual belief and most absolute and finite logic currently possible for humanity) to be the most essential way to live my life. I have faith in a higher realm, but I don't lose sight of revision, pragmatism, and I keep my idealism in check. Math and Karma work with the blind, the religious clowns, even if they don't pick up on what these schools are dolling out. The actions you partake in in life follow you throughout your soul's existence. The acts of evil, of weakness, come back to bite you in the end. The acts are all part of a vast system of rules and guidelines, in my mind, for the universe. We are pawns in a game of chess too big to realize. Our world is merely a fraction of a square tile on a chess board. These rules are bendable, but they tend not to break in favor of pure free will. The rules are to keep us in check, to help us learn. To come out victorious over the number of years our soul is present in this realm. Karma is the ladder that we climb in order to leave this realm and visit the next.
Our realm uses math, the most pure form of fact, as a guideline. Miracles can be performed by Yogi's, but they aren't without logic. We just haven't figured out the equations. Water has been turned into wine. It's not without reason. The dead have risen, water has been walked on, liquids in glasses have moved to higher positions without so much as a single pour, flowers have bloomed on trees without the routine of celestial ruling being present (i.e. cherry blossoms blooming in January in a matter of seconds from being bare), and I was born because of one's timely remark to my father "You should go home, now" (I'll explain in person). All of these miracles have happened, it's not Christian bullshit. I've experienced them second hand. And they are the catalyst for my belief in a spiritually logical way of living, probably not unlike the way of the Vulcans.
With that said, at certain junctures of one's life, one can feel the transcendence of Karmath working. I've felt it in short bursts throughout the six preceding months. I'm currently feeling it now. The logic I've used takes the monthly fractions, each consecutive fourth has been a new step in a spiritual direction. The first fourth of this year I was stuck in my room, preparing the recordings that would be the tool for me to embark on my dream, my purpose. I was sad, depressed, alone. It was a time that taught me the importance of laziness and its effect on the human psyche.
The second fourth started out in full emotional turmoil, a carry over symptom from the previous fourth's laziness, frantically trying to realize my dream's move from abstract idea to material object. I finished recording in a fit of fever and fury, unhealthy and wrought with jitters. Patch co-producer Schuyler said, "Why the timetable? Why does it have to be done now?" His words made me relax, to settle down. I took things in stride, and embarked on getting the live form ready for lift off. Greg Strom and I have been meeting weekly, going through preparations for when the three other players join us. The wheel of activity cooled down, but not for lack of activity. It cooled down due to the nature of calm within. I've realized my friendships, I've had a tiny bit of leisure. Work has given me the gift of less responsibilty. I've had an iota of vacation.
The third fourth will undoubtedly ramp up activity while hopefully keeping the engine cool. The live band will now come together, rehearsing and learning. My recordings will be finished and sent off to the powers that be. More preparation, but closer to the stage of action, which will be the last fourth. Three stages of potential, one stage of kinetic, carrying over into the next round of stages.
From a writing standpoint, I've realized that this blog hasn't been everything that I had hoped it would be. Initially, I wanted a "smart", poetic, in depth look into the aspects of my life that I've delved into day in day out so far this year. Sometimes it's been lacking in depth due to utter tiredness and outright boredom from having to document every single day. The nature of this blog is going to change in pursuit of that goal. Entries will become a little more abstract, less candid. The last week of entries is more like the entries I hope to create in the next six months.
Keep on reading, whoever you are. It will only get more interesting as the year wanes on . . .
Saul Williams -- "Notice of Eviction"
2009 has proven to be the bringer of change. Karmath pertains to friendship and the loss of friendship. Brothers and sisters have announced their departure at the end of the summer. Karmath pertains to learning valuable lessons the hard way. Dealing with the departure not in small steps, but in one vast "up-and-adam". Karmath shows the way one must travel in order to grow. It also shows the way to hinder growth, but it doesn't announce which path is which.
The name Karmath is obviously derived from Karma and math. When pertaining to me, I view the essence of combining the two (spiritual belief and most absolute and finite logic currently possible for humanity) to be the most essential way to live my life. I have faith in a higher realm, but I don't lose sight of revision, pragmatism, and I keep my idealism in check. Math and Karma work with the blind, the religious clowns, even if they don't pick up on what these schools are dolling out. The actions you partake in in life follow you throughout your soul's existence. The acts of evil, of weakness, come back to bite you in the end. The acts are all part of a vast system of rules and guidelines, in my mind, for the universe. We are pawns in a game of chess too big to realize. Our world is merely a fraction of a square tile on a chess board. These rules are bendable, but they tend not to break in favor of pure free will. The rules are to keep us in check, to help us learn. To come out victorious over the number of years our soul is present in this realm. Karma is the ladder that we climb in order to leave this realm and visit the next.
Our realm uses math, the most pure form of fact, as a guideline. Miracles can be performed by Yogi's, but they aren't without logic. We just haven't figured out the equations. Water has been turned into wine. It's not without reason. The dead have risen, water has been walked on, liquids in glasses have moved to higher positions without so much as a single pour, flowers have bloomed on trees without the routine of celestial ruling being present (i.e. cherry blossoms blooming in January in a matter of seconds from being bare), and I was born because of one's timely remark to my father "You should go home, now" (I'll explain in person). All of these miracles have happened, it's not Christian bullshit. I've experienced them second hand. And they are the catalyst for my belief in a spiritually logical way of living, probably not unlike the way of the Vulcans.
With that said, at certain junctures of one's life, one can feel the transcendence of Karmath working. I've felt it in short bursts throughout the six preceding months. I'm currently feeling it now. The logic I've used takes the monthly fractions, each consecutive fourth has been a new step in a spiritual direction. The first fourth of this year I was stuck in my room, preparing the recordings that would be the tool for me to embark on my dream, my purpose. I was sad, depressed, alone. It was a time that taught me the importance of laziness and its effect on the human psyche.
The second fourth started out in full emotional turmoil, a carry over symptom from the previous fourth's laziness, frantically trying to realize my dream's move from abstract idea to material object. I finished recording in a fit of fever and fury, unhealthy and wrought with jitters. Patch co-producer Schuyler said, "Why the timetable? Why does it have to be done now?" His words made me relax, to settle down. I took things in stride, and embarked on getting the live form ready for lift off. Greg Strom and I have been meeting weekly, going through preparations for when the three other players join us. The wheel of activity cooled down, but not for lack of activity. It cooled down due to the nature of calm within. I've realized my friendships, I've had a tiny bit of leisure. Work has given me the gift of less responsibilty. I've had an iota of vacation.
The third fourth will undoubtedly ramp up activity while hopefully keeping the engine cool. The live band will now come together, rehearsing and learning. My recordings will be finished and sent off to the powers that be. More preparation, but closer to the stage of action, which will be the last fourth. Three stages of potential, one stage of kinetic, carrying over into the next round of stages.
From a writing standpoint, I've realized that this blog hasn't been everything that I had hoped it would be. Initially, I wanted a "smart", poetic, in depth look into the aspects of my life that I've delved into day in day out so far this year. Sometimes it's been lacking in depth due to utter tiredness and outright boredom from having to document every single day. The nature of this blog is going to change in pursuit of that goal. Entries will become a little more abstract, less candid. The last week of entries is more like the entries I hope to create in the next six months.
Keep on reading, whoever you are. It will only get more interesting as the year wanes on . . .
Saul Williams -- "Notice of Eviction"
Friday, June 26, 2009
Here There Be Changes
Changes are afoot:
Got wind today that all of us will most likely be moving out of the Monroe House. It was bittersweet, but I got on a kick of actually having an excuse to visit other cities other than for proposed tour purposes or for visiting family. Louie will be moving to D.C. with Kristen. Taylor and Marta are doing the Seattle thing. Adri will most likely stay in town but live someplace else. Me, I won't be sticking around if no one else from the Brotherhood is sticking around either.
I'll get into changes more in my Half Year Checkpoint entry coming up at the end of the month. The tides have reached me, and I am being pulled out to sea, awaiting a current to overpower me . . .
The Cinematic Orchestra -- "To Build a Home"
Got wind today that all of us will most likely be moving out of the Monroe House. It was bittersweet, but I got on a kick of actually having an excuse to visit other cities other than for proposed tour purposes or for visiting family. Louie will be moving to D.C. with Kristen. Taylor and Marta are doing the Seattle thing. Adri will most likely stay in town but live someplace else. Me, I won't be sticking around if no one else from the Brotherhood is sticking around either.
I'll get into changes more in my Half Year Checkpoint entry coming up at the end of the month. The tides have reached me, and I am being pulled out to sea, awaiting a current to overpower me . . .
The Cinematic Orchestra -- "To Build a Home"
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Day I Met Peter
A sad anecdote for a rainy spring evening . . .
A new kid started yesterday. It happens that his name is Peter. Even though we only share a name, I feel a little bit of a connection with him. I don't know why.
Today in our day care portion, he came up to me and asked "When is my mom coming?" with tears in his eyes. You have to expect this from the new kids. I got down on my knees and said "She's probably on her way to pick you up right now, Pete. You see that clock over there?" I pointed to a microwave which sports digital time. "When those numbers turn to 6:00, the school is closed. She'll be in here before then, so you'll only have, at most, about two hours to wait."
He said "When the clock is 6:00?"
For a second I thought he could tell time. I forgot how I figured out that he was like any other three/four year old, though.
He asked "Can I watch it?"
I said "Sure."
He proceeded to sit cross-legged on the hard wood floor and watch the microwave. I could have turned on the microwave, paused it, and left a consistent display on there and he wouldn't have cared. This instrument obviously brought him comfort in the prospect that his mom was coming to get him.
He sat in front of the thing for an hour.
I finally called him over "Pete, man, I'm getting worried about you. Why don't you come over to the carpet where I can see you?"
He started to cry. "Nooooo! I can't see the clock from there!"
"I need you over here, bud. I can't see you from where I am."
He cried, and I had to do the 1-2-3 count, much to his disapproval. He would've just sat there otherwise until we went downstairs to play in the jungle gym.
He started playing a little with the other children, loosening up, to my relief.
The reason this got to me was because it reminded me of myself at his age. I used to do the same thing, wait in front of the window, just watching the cars go by, itching to see my mom coming up to the front door of whatever child care center I was presently in. I cried, I thought she would die on her travels without me, leaving me alone. Her mom died when she was young, so I took it as a sign that my own mother was going to die when I was young, as well.
I got a weird out-of-body experience out of finally knowing what my care givers probably thought during these events. Thoughts of "C'mon, kid, just play a little with the other guys," or "Wuss", or "I don't care, he needs to be by me, no matter what he says or does."
This kid will be an analyzer, a possible worry-wart, have a sense of humor, but he'll have emotional thoughts cloud his judgement most of the time.
In other words, I think this little Peter will turn out a lot like me. And I'm now the thoughts of the people who dealt with me as I grew up. It's kind of a strange experience.
Mogwai -- "Helps Both Ways"
A new kid started yesterday. It happens that his name is Peter. Even though we only share a name, I feel a little bit of a connection with him. I don't know why.
Today in our day care portion, he came up to me and asked "When is my mom coming?" with tears in his eyes. You have to expect this from the new kids. I got down on my knees and said "She's probably on her way to pick you up right now, Pete. You see that clock over there?" I pointed to a microwave which sports digital time. "When those numbers turn to 6:00, the school is closed. She'll be in here before then, so you'll only have, at most, about two hours to wait."
He said "When the clock is 6:00?"
For a second I thought he could tell time. I forgot how I figured out that he was like any other three/four year old, though.
He asked "Can I watch it?"
I said "Sure."
He proceeded to sit cross-legged on the hard wood floor and watch the microwave. I could have turned on the microwave, paused it, and left a consistent display on there and he wouldn't have cared. This instrument obviously brought him comfort in the prospect that his mom was coming to get him.
He sat in front of the thing for an hour.
I finally called him over "Pete, man, I'm getting worried about you. Why don't you come over to the carpet where I can see you?"
He started to cry. "Nooooo! I can't see the clock from there!"
"I need you over here, bud. I can't see you from where I am."
He cried, and I had to do the 1-2-3 count, much to his disapproval. He would've just sat there otherwise until we went downstairs to play in the jungle gym.
He started playing a little with the other children, loosening up, to my relief.
The reason this got to me was because it reminded me of myself at his age. I used to do the same thing, wait in front of the window, just watching the cars go by, itching to see my mom coming up to the front door of whatever child care center I was presently in. I cried, I thought she would die on her travels without me, leaving me alone. Her mom died when she was young, so I took it as a sign that my own mother was going to die when I was young, as well.
I got a weird out-of-body experience out of finally knowing what my care givers probably thought during these events. Thoughts of "C'mon, kid, just play a little with the other guys," or "Wuss", or "I don't care, he needs to be by me, no matter what he says or does."
This kid will be an analyzer, a possible worry-wart, have a sense of humor, but he'll have emotional thoughts cloud his judgement most of the time.
In other words, I think this little Peter will turn out a lot like me. And I'm now the thoughts of the people who dealt with me as I grew up. It's kind of a strange experience.
Mogwai -- "Helps Both Ways"Monday, February 16, 2009
Tomorrow is Today
Every President's Day, Miniapple Montessori has an inservice. They have morning lectures given by top Montessori teachers, health organization training, CPR and First Aid training. There's also a heavy bout of cleaning at each individual school in the afternoon.
The morning lectures are always somewhat refreshing. For one thing, they remind me that I'm too stressed out a lot of the time in front of the kids and that I might not be giving them the right kind of attention they need. Guiding, unrequited love, they call it. I agree with this statement.
We don't teach. We "guide". The kids form themselves, they are not "taught" anything. I think the term "teacher" is kind of misguided, in this sense.
Throughout the lecture, I kept thinking about how hard it is to give unrequited love when you yourself aren't fully in control of your life. My room is in shambles, I'm alone most of the time composing demos, I have a very limited food choice due to a small amount of money. My soul is in unrest.
Last week was a nightmare at the school. The director put in her two weeks notice, coworkers were stressed out, the kids picked up on that stress and were little tyrants all week long. I lost patience with myself, with my household, with my parents. It's not comforting to think that you have to go meet a quota with creativity each night instead of just relaxing. Besides, my room is on the first floor of an extremely noisy house. People's shoes click past my door almost constantly, post-school/work jubilated conversation takes place in the dining room adjacent to my abode, movies are watched with the surround sound on on the other side of the wall where my bed is posted, shaking the mattress like a massaging bed that costs a mere quarter per five minute session.
This environment is not conducive to creativity, relaxation, inner tranquility, growth.
I have a feeling that the coming seasons will bring two things: 1) Spring will have me cleaning out my room, stripping down the amp, keyboard, instruments in favor of some walking space. 2) Fall will most likely have me moving into a cheaper, larger abode (I say larger in terms of me having more living space rather than a cramped up room that I keep everything in. I need other rooms now to comfortably stash everything, which isn't much, but it doesn't fit in one room either). Taylor and Marta will most likely leave for Seattle in September or late August. I think that will be an ample time to move myself.
Maybe not, though. But it's something to think about. So far, this house has allowed me to be with my closest friends 24/7. We're still extremely close, living together has not tainted our relationship with one another. But we're moving apart from each other literally, and I can't afford to pay $500 a month for a cramped room. $400 for a cramped room sounds more reasonable. $500 for ample leg room is reasonable too. The element making up the difference right now is having the brothas from otha mothas together in one nucleus. The price you pay to be with true friends.
God, 2009's going to be interesting. Where the fuck am I going to be a year from now? Where will I be working the day job? How's about Patch? Where will I live?
A slingshot year. Gotta prepare . . .
Pearl Jam -- "Can't Keep"
The morning lectures are always somewhat refreshing. For one thing, they remind me that I'm too stressed out a lot of the time in front of the kids and that I might not be giving them the right kind of attention they need. Guiding, unrequited love, they call it. I agree with this statement.
We don't teach. We "guide". The kids form themselves, they are not "taught" anything. I think the term "teacher" is kind of misguided, in this sense.
Throughout the lecture, I kept thinking about how hard it is to give unrequited love when you yourself aren't fully in control of your life. My room is in shambles, I'm alone most of the time composing demos, I have a very limited food choice due to a small amount of money. My soul is in unrest.
Last week was a nightmare at the school. The director put in her two weeks notice, coworkers were stressed out, the kids picked up on that stress and were little tyrants all week long. I lost patience with myself, with my household, with my parents. It's not comforting to think that you have to go meet a quota with creativity each night instead of just relaxing. Besides, my room is on the first floor of an extremely noisy house. People's shoes click past my door almost constantly, post-school/work jubilated conversation takes place in the dining room adjacent to my abode, movies are watched with the surround sound on on the other side of the wall where my bed is posted, shaking the mattress like a massaging bed that costs a mere quarter per five minute session.
This environment is not conducive to creativity, relaxation, inner tranquility, growth.
I have a feeling that the coming seasons will bring two things: 1) Spring will have me cleaning out my room, stripping down the amp, keyboard, instruments in favor of some walking space. 2) Fall will most likely have me moving into a cheaper, larger abode (I say larger in terms of me having more living space rather than a cramped up room that I keep everything in. I need other rooms now to comfortably stash everything, which isn't much, but it doesn't fit in one room either). Taylor and Marta will most likely leave for Seattle in September or late August. I think that will be an ample time to move myself.
Maybe not, though. But it's something to think about. So far, this house has allowed me to be with my closest friends 24/7. We're still extremely close, living together has not tainted our relationship with one another. But we're moving apart from each other literally, and I can't afford to pay $500 a month for a cramped room. $400 for a cramped room sounds more reasonable. $500 for ample leg room is reasonable too. The element making up the difference right now is having the brothas from otha mothas together in one nucleus. The price you pay to be with true friends.
God, 2009's going to be interesting. Where the fuck am I going to be a year from now? Where will I be working the day job? How's about Patch? Where will I live?
A slingshot year. Gotta prepare . . .
Pearl Jam -- "Can't Keep"
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The Invisible Transcendence
INTRODUCTION
Ever since I graduated college two years ago, my life has circulated around two things: 1) Music and 2)Day Job. The nature of my day job is one of "consistency". Working with children, consistency is the number one priority for teaching. It makes the children feel safe, allows them to branch off and grow within the day to day routine. Unfortunately, for me that means every day is basically the same.
I come home from work and sit down to write/record/plan Patch. I'm stuck in my room throughout the afternoon and early evening toiling over editing software and word documents. Needless to say, a lot of the time I look back and wonder "Have I amounted to anything in my life? Is this it?" Every day blends together. This is ultimately the main cause of the depression I sporadically find myself in.
Back in August I did an experiment. I made a bullet point list complete with every single thing I did in the day, save for trite things like "Took Shower", "Washed Dishes". Looking back on the list, I realized that every day usually brought a new experience into my life. And I wasn't as depressed after thinking that things weren't so drab after all.
I'm starting that list back up. My hope is to document every single day of 2009. The effect of this list is that I crave telling people about my experiences, since usually something triggers a thought process which causes me to obsess about certain subjects. Curiosity. This is where my art comes from. My questions. My ramblings.
This blog is another outlet for those thoughts. I will most likely get very personal about myself. It's under my public name, but I'm not planning on divulging all of my secrets. Names will be omitted regarding incriminating circumstances. I'll be posting a lot of multimedia regarding music, videos, articles relating to the previous day and what thoughts were sparked during my travels.
Also, regarding "Welcome to Circadia", my other Kean blog: that is my primary source for creative outlet. I'll be posting a lot of the same things here, but "Circadia" is my "PUBLIC" blog. In the coming years, "Karmath" (The Blog) and any other blog sites I create will become private. If you're reading this now, chances are you're a good friend, someone I'd like to share those daily sparks with.
The name "Karmath" is derived from a Patch EP that I'm currently writing. I figured 2009 was the year that "Karmath" would be the primary focus for Patch, receiving the numerical catalog of PATCH 1.0. I'm currently recording PATCH 0.1 -- the first round of demos. I felt that "Karmath" and its subject matter would probably hold the most relevance regarding 2009. As the year goes on, I'll divulge more information.
I'm making this as a piece of the internet I can go back to in years to come. To say "That's who I was in 2009." I hope the public gets something out of it too.
PART 1 -- Layman's Countdown
Another year.
There were no ball droppings. There was a countdown, but it was based off of a laptop computer's interpretation on Microsoft Clock. I'm pretty sure the Atomic Clock had no say in this year's countdown. It was a layman's countdown.
I can remember dancing the night away at Too Much Love, one of Minneapolis' better danceterian happenin's, for the 2008 countdown. It was going to be a year of promise. Of that overused term "CHANGE". Politics fueled my personal resolutions for the year. If the state of D.C. politics changed, so would I.
Drunker than a sailor turned bench ridden whino I held my drink up high and brought it down with each consecutive number to bring in '08. Finally touching my lips, I savored the ethanol burning my bowels. "EVERYTHING'S CHANGING, MAN!!!"
I turned around and saw countless amounts of people kissing, hoping for the miracle of yearly transcendence. A former fling and my roommate had their first kiss, a kiss marked by workmanship and preparation (they had not a scrap of alcohol so that they could soberly share their mouths and remember it till the day they died). I kissed my bottle, and continued to dance.
'09's Layman's Countdown: in the middle of a conversation with a former theatre classmate from way back when about my love life's current whereabouts (and tongue in cheek interrogation on both our parts), the host of the house party started shouting "15 seconds!!!" The numbers went by quickly and I kissed my roommates (brothers and sisters) and my former classmate complete with some of the most ball raising pheromonic staredowns I've ever had with a woman ("I NEED to hang out with you again." "Oh, you will."). I felt safe. I didn't want to think too much about the transcendence I was supposed to have. There were my best friends . . . and this girl.
One sentence sums up that moment of '09. As we drove back home, Marta (probably my closest friend in the female category) spoke up:
"Peter, I just want to see you get laid."
Damn fucking straight.
Port O'Brien -- "I Woke Up Today"
PART 2 -- The Inevitable Transcendence
Speaking of transcendence and change and overcoming the past, I found an interesting website dealing with the "Ultimate Corporeal Form" for humanity. What is the ultimate body humans can wear? What will provide us sustenance when we become space travellers?
Here's what we could become in the distant future, provided we don't fuck it up beforehand: http://www.jrmooneyham.com/ult.html.
Ever since I graduated college two years ago, my life has circulated around two things: 1) Music and 2)Day Job. The nature of my day job is one of "consistency". Working with children, consistency is the number one priority for teaching. It makes the children feel safe, allows them to branch off and grow within the day to day routine. Unfortunately, for me that means every day is basically the same.
I come home from work and sit down to write/record/plan Patch. I'm stuck in my room throughout the afternoon and early evening toiling over editing software and word documents. Needless to say, a lot of the time I look back and wonder "Have I amounted to anything in my life? Is this it?" Every day blends together. This is ultimately the main cause of the depression I sporadically find myself in.
Back in August I did an experiment. I made a bullet point list complete with every single thing I did in the day, save for trite things like "Took Shower", "Washed Dishes". Looking back on the list, I realized that every day usually brought a new experience into my life. And I wasn't as depressed after thinking that things weren't so drab after all.
I'm starting that list back up. My hope is to document every single day of 2009. The effect of this list is that I crave telling people about my experiences, since usually something triggers a thought process which causes me to obsess about certain subjects. Curiosity. This is where my art comes from. My questions. My ramblings.
This blog is another outlet for those thoughts. I will most likely get very personal about myself. It's under my public name, but I'm not planning on divulging all of my secrets. Names will be omitted regarding incriminating circumstances. I'll be posting a lot of multimedia regarding music, videos, articles relating to the previous day and what thoughts were sparked during my travels.
Also, regarding "Welcome to Circadia", my other Kean blog: that is my primary source for creative outlet. I'll be posting a lot of the same things here, but "Circadia" is my "PUBLIC" blog. In the coming years, "Karmath" (The Blog) and any other blog sites I create will become private. If you're reading this now, chances are you're a good friend, someone I'd like to share those daily sparks with.
The name "Karmath" is derived from a Patch EP that I'm currently writing. I figured 2009 was the year that "Karmath" would be the primary focus for Patch, receiving the numerical catalog of PATCH 1.0. I'm currently recording PATCH 0.1 -- the first round of demos. I felt that "Karmath" and its subject matter would probably hold the most relevance regarding 2009. As the year goes on, I'll divulge more information.
I'm making this as a piece of the internet I can go back to in years to come. To say "That's who I was in 2009." I hope the public gets something out of it too.
PART 1 -- Layman's Countdown
Another year.
There were no ball droppings. There was a countdown, but it was based off of a laptop computer's interpretation on Microsoft Clock. I'm pretty sure the Atomic Clock had no say in this year's countdown. It was a layman's countdown.
I can remember dancing the night away at Too Much Love, one of Minneapolis' better danceterian happenin's, for the 2008 countdown. It was going to be a year of promise. Of that overused term "CHANGE". Politics fueled my personal resolutions for the year. If the state of D.C. politics changed, so would I.
Drunker than a sailor turned bench ridden whino I held my drink up high and brought it down with each consecutive number to bring in '08. Finally touching my lips, I savored the ethanol burning my bowels. "EVERYTHING'S CHANGING, MAN!!!"
I turned around and saw countless amounts of people kissing, hoping for the miracle of yearly transcendence. A former fling and my roommate had their first kiss, a kiss marked by workmanship and preparation (they had not a scrap of alcohol so that they could soberly share their mouths and remember it till the day they died). I kissed my bottle, and continued to dance.
'09's Layman's Countdown: in the middle of a conversation with a former theatre classmate from way back when about my love life's current whereabouts (and tongue in cheek interrogation on both our parts), the host of the house party started shouting "15 seconds!!!" The numbers went by quickly and I kissed my roommates (brothers and sisters) and my former classmate complete with some of the most ball raising pheromonic staredowns I've ever had with a woman ("I NEED to hang out with you again." "Oh, you will."). I felt safe. I didn't want to think too much about the transcendence I was supposed to have. There were my best friends . . . and this girl.
One sentence sums up that moment of '09. As we drove back home, Marta (probably my closest friend in the female category) spoke up:
"Peter, I just want to see you get laid."
Damn fucking straight.
Port O'Brien -- "I Woke Up Today"
PART 2 -- The Inevitable Transcendence
Speaking of transcendence and change and overcoming the past, I found an interesting website dealing with the "Ultimate Corporeal Form" for humanity. What is the ultimate body humans can wear? What will provide us sustenance when we become space travellers?
Here's what we could become in the distant future, provided we don't fuck it up beforehand: http://www.jrmooneyham.com/ult.html.
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