Cold days, indoors, quiet house, brain on "10".... look out

"as logic stands, you couldn't meet a man (who's from your future)
but as logic broke, he appeared and spoke (about your future)"

“we’re not gonna make it…..”

This might be a top five Flaming Lips song. Not that I'm a connoisseur of that band.

I feel like part of the reason I've blogged a bit less than I'd predicted is because I feel like I need an audience. What do you think motivates my anxious ass to get up on stage and squeak out my rudimentary rock songs? Well, clearly, there's some passion for the art of music at work there too, but, a fraction of that gumption is derived from the (potential) adoration and, if not that, then at least sense that I’m affecting the audience whether its of one or one hundred. And, for whatever reason, I think that, at any given time, 50% of my songs are good. Even though I would fully agree that only about a couple of my songs were good in, say, 1998. Yup, this becoming a pretty self-indulgent post. Or a slight digression, at best. So where was I? Oh yeah, a need for an audience. This is a fairly new realization for me. A year or two ago I would have said, nawwwww, I don't seek an audience. But its not for purely superficial approval, I can be sure about that at this time. I'm sure of this because its more about the satisfaction of constantly affecting people with my art. That's what's made my life relatively satisfying, at least generally speaking. But I'm cuckoo enough to have the original spark of creativity, working with a faucet of obtuse ideas due to racing thoughts . Its like a slightly unusual basket of traits creating one self, one personality, that we all get to gradually decipher (or not, maybe just watch TV) as we mature. Knowing ourselves, while being aware that we consistently evolve, becomes the foundation for experiencing, if not just for the mere sake of being vital and alive. Sorry if that sentance was a bit obese. See disclaimer above at the top of your screen.

Back to desiring an audience, for this blog and otherwise. I like to affect people. Affect them ideally for the better, but perhaps just jarring them a bit. My issue, if there is a real issue, might be that it’s kind of at the expense of my well being. Or perhaps that my being just isn't well, and I'm avoiding that reality though affecting others. Talk about a vicious cycle. And it’s even spilled into my professional life, the work I decided to do for a living. I probably should have been an astronomer or archeologist or botanist. And no wonder I'm single. I am trying to learn how to think a bit less these days, however, and simply experience more. More of what I like, the way I like it, for the (gasp!) joy of being alive.

David Bowie turned 60 today. From the radio came some bits of an NPR "Fresh Air" interview with Mr. Bowie done about a year ago, of which I was lucky enough to have heard most of on a random trip to work.

Now it’s "Are you a hypotist?" Flaming Lips song. How can a band go from A+ to D+ so fluidly? I do recall telling a friend that I thought the Hypnotist song was my favorite on that record. Opinions change, indeed. And now, ungh, the Yoshimi song, riding that finest of fine lines; making happy sounds out of minor scales with radically cathardic subject matter. It’s like emotional blood-letting, a contrived emotional rollercoaster. The Yoshimi story, I believe, is based on a real story, and its one that involves a Japanese girl and cancer. Or at least that's a story that I think I heard somewhere, and, well, shit, now might have to google that. Okay, NOT a priority.

I miss my bike. I feel psychologically disabled without a bike; i need a new rear inner tube, going on two months now. I'll get it just in time for a snowstorm. Maybe all bike parts are cheaper in snow storms. Should be a law.

Rear inner tube is clearly a future rock band name.

I wonder about my family a lot these days. A kind of bizarre curiosity, however. Particularly ones I'm out of touch with because of feeling too oppressed to be myself around. If my family could only have a glass of wine (everyone) and talk some shit. I've found that families that talk shit, occasionally have a spat (except those involving wills) and DON'T gossip about each other are pretty damn beautiful. Although some of this bonus rant is, in fact, based on experience, I'm not pointing a finger solely at one particular side of mine. If you're in my family and you're reading this, then you know what I'm starting to get at. And if you're not, ask me after a few beverages.