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"

Bean Bag Boner

Upon disembarking the weary walls of the school today, I happened to chance upon a group of frat boys next door engaging in one of the most puzzling activities/norms for their particular group. When I think of frats, I think of rufie laden house parties, beer pong, dude bros, popped collars, a proposed fight that never occurs . . . and bean bag tossing.

Anytime the sun is out around colleges, you see guys throwing bean bags into opposing wooden slabs with circles cut into them. How is this such a hoot that it merits a top position of "normality" for the most masculine of masculines? It's a goddamn carnival game played by children or by cute couples out and about on one of their first dates. I have nothing against the game personally. It's just a game. But how is this as prevalent as Kanye glasses in the hipster circuit? I guess for the same reason that Kanye glasses are popular in the hipster circuit. One person started it, enough people saw that enough people accepted it, and so it was written. But it's definitely not as cool as Bocce Ball or Croquet, let's be honest. It's the only game three year olds can play in our Little Olympics event at the school without our help. It's a big hit for them.

Beer and bean bags . . . there's a ton of symbolism in this comparison, I'm not gonna lie. Maybe the alcohol turns the mind into a reminiscent machine resorting to the three year old psyche hidden deep inside, crying and wetting the hypocampus, lusting for another overtake of the conscious control room. Only they have 20 year old penises.

The Beatles -- "Octopus's Garden (LOVE remix)"

Liquored Truths and Glittered Booths

Another entry in the sporadic events of The Hopeless Romantic:

Releasing reason and letting the frequencies of horny thunderclouds overtake my inhibitions, I sought a companion for summer flirtation. Suggesting helpful liquids in said massacre of inhibition, we traversed to the likely candidate for hidden, hush-hush romance, nestled tightly away in a glittering booth that takes you from the land of once comfortable monogamy to a land of confused, yet legal, polygamy. A place for dirty romance.

My romance was not dirty, but I did not heed my own goals of standing on the sidelines, waiting for my turn in the roll call between two or more candidates.

An entire bottle was consumed. And the age old standard of Vino Veritas stood true and victorious for us both.

Then the game of chess began, wrench throwers uniting. At home, defensive line tacklers supplied my lady with paint drenched brushes and she supplied us with tangible adolescent panty voyeurism.

A half drowsed cuddle (and maybe a few misplaced kisses of care later) she went home, an abode sparkling with the promise of comfort and routine, a machine for forgetting the novelty of the previous evening when mixed with the side effects of amnesia that travel with the tasty truth syrum nestled in her belly.

At least that's what I felt tonight as I heard ". . . baby . . ." on her phone home. A quiet retreat is my next course, waiting on the sidelines like I should have done in the first place.

Bon Iver -- "Skinny Love"

The Fingernail Choir

With coffee in my bowels, I set off on my yearly jaunt with a new Mars Volta record.

The Mars Volta holds a special place in my heart. Nay, it is the core, the center Ying to Nine Inch Nails being the Yang, of my musical influence. One of the most promising ways to be stunned by a new record to actually expect the worst from it. Anticipating the "sophomore slump" or "senioritis" of over the hill peakdom in popular music will most likely either bring mere satisfaction at the prospect that either it's lived up to your lackadaisical assumption of mediocrity, or it will surpass your every intuition and make you shit a ten ton brick out of sheer shock due to how awesome the record is.

The Mars Volta have made me shit a combined pile of maybe a million tons, including the shit I took today while listening to their newest effort, "Octahedron", their fifth record.

My musical compadre, Adri, said to me the other day, "The Onion gave the new Volta record a 'C'." This actually set the stage for the construction of my asshat-ed masonry of a shit brick wall. 1) I hate knowing reviews before engaging with the subject myself, it creates a self-fulfilling prophecy (If others don't like it, surely I won't, either). 2) I tend to think the writers for the A.V. Club in The Onion, in cahoots with Pitchfork, think of music in the complete opposite way that I do. Therefore, I anticipate most of the records they give B- and below ratings to to be A++ efforts in my book. Sometimes. Sometimes.

Sitting down with the record and opening up the liner notes and lyric booklit, I plugged "Octahedron" into my Windows Media Player and let 'er rip. "Since We've Been Wrong", a sort of single, a song I'm already familiar with, played first. I find pleasure in hearing the audiophiliac difference between MP3 streams/radio broadcasts and CD quality WAV gorgeousness. Singles are hence new again, as they are heard in full TECHNICOLOR.

Track 2, "Teflon", started it's sexy, sleazy groove. I started to smile throughout the entire song. In fact, I smiled throughout the rest of the other six tracks. Tears were brought to my eyes just like when I finally realized the power of "Francis the Mute", their second record, and first listened to "Amputechture", their third effort. Their first and fourth records had their effect as well, but for some reason "Francis", "Amputechture" and "Octahedron" hit my soul a little more. They're more emotional, more operatic.

A cheesy synth pad is heard throughout the record. When I first heard it a couple weeks ago while listening to an MP3 of "Since We've Been Wrong" I didn't like it. It was too 60's prog space nostalgia. But hearing it throughout the record with all of the other non-cheesy timbres I lost that cheesy grip and accepted it as a motif for calm and vast emptiness. It worked in the end.

And that's the reason The Mars Volta gets a bad rap from every "reputable" critic. No one gives them a chance to sift in the psyche for a while, let it sink in. "Francis the Mute" was my first Volta purchase. I listened to the record, knowing their single "The Widow" and that Rolling Stone liked them (at least one outfit did). It was mud. I didn't get it. It was too much noise, too much was happening.

I put it away for a little while after having listened to it through once. I took it out a couple months later after living with the structure of it for a while. Then one day it just hit me. BAM! Holy crap, nothing else could compare to their level of musicianship, knowledge, and artistry. The lyrics were never your regular brand of "bed" "head" "die" "lie" alliteration. They were lustful and poetic. Dark, sexy, and over the top in metaphor. Solos were impossible to replicate. The mix and production was spot on. Heavy, beefy, huge. Perfect for a Peter music cocktail.

The Mars Volta made me jizz yet again. "Octahedron". Give it a while. Then it'll hit you with a ton of shit bricks. Think of vocalist Cedric Bixler Zavala's last lyric in the last track "Luciforms": "My fingernail choir will make your chalkboard sing". Think about that. It'll light an empathetic fuse one day.

The Mars Volta -- "Teflon"

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"

A Second Licking

LIZARD PEOPLE: Live Show #2

The Acadia -- Minneapolis, MN
June 25, 2009

SETLIST:
1. Cash On Hand
2. Double D-Day
3. 16 Again
4. Snozberry Beret
5. St. Anthony
6. The Know
7. Ginger Grapevine


After agreeing to do the gig only two days ago, we had only one practice to shelve out two new songs and run through five other old ones. Tonight's show happened to be one of the best shows I've ever played onstage. Figures. It always works that way.

After taking a look at the videos of shows we've played, usually the group laments on how crappy it was to them. "Aw, there's where I fucked up. Sorry, guys." After watching tonight's video we all agreed "That was a pretty good fucking show!"

And most of you missed it. Grrrrrr . . .

And to you Mr. Jackson: you were my first hero. You'll always be the catalyst for all the other heroes, but it stemmed from you first. We'll miss you.

Michael Jackson -- "Ain't No Sunshine"

Re-emerging Eyes

The Lizard People are back! We had our one and only practice for our second show tonight. My ears are ringing like no other.

Tomorrow at 8:00pm we play at the Acadia. We just found out about it last night, so yeah. Short notice, but we're trying to meet the challenge.

The Vines -- "Rainfall"

Nature Vs. Napalm

I've touched on the nap room aquarium before, but I had an interesting finding regarding the fish inside this afternoon. While sitting and manning the kids in their cots, there's really not much to do except watch either the clock or the fish swimming around in the tank. It's really a beautiful tank. Puts you to sleep if it's in the dark.

I started noticing a pattern in the behavior of all the fish: they hate each other. There's one alpha fish, a dark, white spotted fish that's bigger than all the other fish. All it does is chase and nibble at other fish. Every fish gets chased away from it, no matter where it is in the tank. It doesn't have it's own territory. It just threatens each fish whenever they are in its vicinity. Seriously, I've never thought this about a fish, but that fish is an asshole.

All the other fish have taken on the role this alpha asshole fish hath wrought as the code of the tank. They chase all the other fish away from wherever they are. They don't chase the asshole fish, but they chase all the others. They especially gang up on one particularly ugly fish, coming at it from all sides and nibble away. It's kind of sad.

I think it's also funny that all the kids act this way on the playground. If a kid is around another kid they'll usually steal a ball, hit, throw woodchips, they're dicks to each other. Does Miniapple harbor hostile energy within all creatures, or are all preschools like this? All fish? I have a feeling all creatures are like this wherever you go.

You want to know why war will never cease? Take a look at preschools and other animals locked up in a designated perimeter. The kids have only so far to travel in their exploration. So do we, as relegated by societal rules. Invisible fences. We're all hostile, and we are born with it.

Violence is inherent and ever present.

A Perfect Circle -- "Peace, Love, and Understanding"

Body Heat

Summer is in full force.

This weekend, after the Old Peeps Party, we went to Taylors Falls to canoe down the St. Croix river all afternoon. After that, we went to Greg's Zombie Movie Marathon (fell asleep twice, due to only three hours' worth of sleep the night before). Sunday was nothing but a crash day.

And now, the temp is the same as body temp. Sticky, wet . . . awesome.

Franz Ferdinand -- "No You Girls"

I Want My Cake

I love you Dad.



Cloud Cult -- "Fairy Tale"