I used to be afraid of death as well. I can't say that I look forward to dying but, I dunno, becoming something else seems pretty necessary to me. I'm no expert on the subject (Death? No. Nihilism... yeah, I'm an expert on death.) but, I've read a great deal about Nihilism and have forgotten more than I've retained... that said, they got a bad rap early on and have been pigeon holed in fascism ever since... which is a bummer because there are plenty of people who are conducting themselves through life in a positive Nihilist manner and don't even know it. If you believe in rebirth from the ashes, you may be a Nihilist... doesn't mean you have to conquer Europe. In fact, I know one person who has conquered Europe and he's a fascist... not a Nihilist. Had he been a Nihilist, maybe something positive would have come from his rise to power rather than a constant stream of negative energy and bullshit propaganda (btw, I'm not referring to Hitler... in case you were wondering). Existentialists believe in the random, godless universe... where as, you can consider yourself a Nihilist and still believe in god. Want to know more? Talk to a friend of mine at www.counterorder.com, ask for Freydis. Tell 'em Bobby "the cod" sent ya... password a rutabaga. In my opinion, even the tiniest belief in an ounce of god could keep a person from conducting themselves in some sick mercenary fashion and stick to a higher calling. Like what? Well... this is my blog (no blog, I don't like that term, journal). This is my journal so, I'll use my own situation as an example. After all, I'm certainly not in touch with whatever anybody else is doing with their lives and wouldn't begin to contemplate my meaning in the mess that is citizen joe these days. Q: How much money do you require? A: All of it. Exactly that. Not a penny less than all of the money in the entire world. That seems greedy doesn't it? Ask me how much money do I require to record an album? Again, all of it. What if I were offered nothing at all? I'd take it. That's my point. Wha?
Money has nothing to do with music at all. Money has nothing to do with that thing, you know, whatever it is that stands over your head, in the distance, over the right shoulder, gives you tips from time to time, inspiration is it? Sometimes tells you to throw a song out of phase. Call it whatever makes you comfortable. You can't buy it. Your money is no good here.
What about popularity, acceptance? Right? What we (or some of us average people) so desperately desire in our tender, formative years... my skull's still forming. I'm tender. Keeps me young. That desire to be accepted by a crowd is a strange thing. I was watching Welcome To The Doll House last night and Ghost World the night before. I wonder when it was, exactly, that I began rooting for the weirdos. I've seen the movie Crumb at least 10 times. I went through a phase (out of phase... that's really fucking bugging me now) where I watched it every night before bed. When did R. Crumb become my absurd hero? Or is it really Charles who I identify with? Or, perhaps Maxon? E-gawds? Is that me? Or mother octopus guarding her nest behind the thin veil of allegory. Yipes! Turn it off before I turn into a moonie!
I can only imagine the day when my son returns home from another difficult exercise in maladjustment, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood public school system. "Dad", he sighs and kicks a rock across the drive, "Billy Mahoney said you were a wannabe... then he rubbed his peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my hair and pushed me into the bushes." I pull the pipe from under my moustache and pressure the steak, causing the blood to drown the glowing coals in purple goo. Black smoke rises from the grill into a thunder clap above the clouds... "Son, Billy Mahoney is the bastard child of a hooker who didn't believe in the Beatles... you tell that 7 year old smart ass I said so."
I'm not going to have children any time soon. But don't think I haven't noticed that a pretty fair amount of young people are subscribing to the religion of the detached. Don't get me wrong, I've committed some kind of emotional crime against myself almost every day of my life but, Paris Hilton?! Even my pedestrian fringe friends think she's a poor role model. John Lennon said that he didn't believe in Beatles. He also said that, concerning revolution, you can count him out or in. So, he didn't know what he was talking about some of the time. Isn't that a comforting thought? Allen Ginsberg once said, "I contradict... I am large... I have multitudes." I love that. He's right. We all have multitudes. We're uncertain by nature. I once asked Nic Turner (Hawkwind) what he thought was under the Sphinx... he told me, "Secrets." Edgar Cayce (famous clairvoyant) said nearly the same thing. Cayce also believed that every human being possessed the same psychic abilities. There's so much that we don't understand yet. Doesn't it just fry your bananas when people seem so self assured?!! I mean, c'mon c'mon... is it good to be beautiful? No... yes... who knows?! Who cares?! You were born into the world with the face of a Pomeranian (that's the dog, not the people)... if you've got one good eye, use it!
Here I am, working on an album... I think it's the greatest thing since sliced cheese. It's quite possible that it just plain stinks. Kennedy was a good man... or not. Maybe Kennedy was secretly planning on rounding up every mother's son for extermination. I dunno. So, spiraling off into paranoia... what works? What can we count on? Rely on? Definitely change. The ability to change our minds in order to accommodate newly developed theories is an incredible opportunity for emotional advancement. Dontcha think? Dontcha hate it when people say that? Of course I think, asshole. In fact, I think 24 hours a day! I can't get any sleep cause my brain's got tigers chasing me in my dreams! I'm working out equations that don't even make sense. What would I do if I won the lottery? I'd fund an excavation of the Sphinx... and throw a pizza party while Captain Kangaroo labatomizes my mind. That's what's so fantastic about being human, in my opinion, we have interests to paint an ashtray pink, read the comics straight faced, and split the atom in our pajamas. A close friend of mine asked me, "I've been trying to get these Queen vocal harmonies going but there seems to be an element missing... what should I do?" I told him that he should copy their harmonies exactly note for note. I told him that he doesn't have Freddie Mercury's voice, so there's no way he'll sound anything like Queen... therefore, actually offering something potentially new. And, what's wrong with a little more Queen injected in our culture?! This "I've seen it all before" attitude is terribly counter productive. Ya must know that we haven't yet grown out of the Rolling Stones. They're selling out football stadiums! Those guys are getting a bit long in the tooth though. Wouldn't it be a shame if the constant push forward landed us all in a world where the people would discard an album like Beggars Banquet simply because it sounds familiar? What doesn't? It's in the magic of production and atmosphere. The Italians have a word for it. Chiaroscuro. Ya gotta roll the tongue. The amazing depth in renaissance painting. It's where the light and shadows are drawn, and the painting always changes before your eyes because the tones are incredibly rich and subtle. It lends itself well to our imaginations so that we may reinterpret its majesty endlessly. But, think of a subject... a bowl of fruit. How about a boy bitten by a lizard? Is that genius? You tell me. I'm just trying to do this jigsaw puzzle. I think it's very funny, in the movie Original Kings of Comedy, when Steve Harvey says, "What ever happened to love?" If you ask me, that sentiment never gets old and tired. How many times in your life have you fallen in love? It always feels like the first time... didn't Foreigner say that? What's with this love thing? It's like everybody's addicted to this ancient concept. We are indeed. I would rather listen to a love song than a hate song. Who listens to hate songs? Kids do. Why do kids listen to hate songs? Because they're confused. Because the world is constricting. Because information is often misleading. Why is Paris Hilton a role model? Because it's easier to shut your senses down and breeze through life without meaning. The only problem is (actually, obviously one of many) most kids aren't going to inherit millions of bucks. Eventually reality steps up and time sets its maggots on your trail (I lifted that). Who are our alternative role models we wonder? For the positive? I saw a documentary where somebody was talking about the 60s and mentioned people’s dedication to Jimi Hendrix as a revolutionary figure to end war. The guy said something to the extent of, "Certainly we wouldn't look to a magician to solve the world’s trouble... why then would we expect a guitar player to change our society?" Good point... except for the fact that musicians, like Hendrix, are revolutionary in the sense of the senses 5 and somehow beyond... without the smoke and mirrors. Passionate, dedicated, visionary artists stroll beyond what seem to be the possibilities and have a knack for revealing what was never thought intellectually reasonable. Every time we drift further than the set parameters, our collective imagination grows, and an angel gets a hard-on. Or, something like that. That's why we, the musicians, the physicians, the scientists (hail Atlantis! Donovan was in town. I missed him.) are vital... because we're pushing the culture toward love rather than hate. We're opening the discussion on confusion in order to relate. So somebody thinks I'm sappy... I still care. I'm ugly... I still love. I'm a bully... I'm afraid. I'm a nerd... I like the Three Stooges. I'm sad... I want to be happy. I sing... I'm alive. I want your protection... I want to protect you. I'm lonely... you make me laugh. You're lonely... I make you laugh. I'm afraid of dying... I'm human. There is no other world that we know yet... I'm giving this one all I've got (at the moment) for better or worse. All of these things relate and ought to be expressed as often as possible. And it's not about money because there's no money to be had that won't just as easily disappear on you when you're not looking. So, why not? Tap into the invisible resource and redefine art for an entire civilization of future cynics. Anything's possible. Are their alien bases under ground? Sure. Is there a heaven and hell. Yeah. Does God exist? Yes. Does satan exist? Yes. Are their parallel dimensions? Yes.
After I finish this cute little rant do you think I'm going to slip into a dark psychological place? No way. I'm going to mix She's Prettiest When She Cries and eat a huge bowl of Indian food. If I think of anything remotely entertaining, I'll chime back in with the latest weather report from the smoky bunker that is my imagination. Until then, good night sweet prince... may flights of angels swing thee from their enormous breasts!!!
Sorry about this one, it's completely incoherent. I must be wound up or something. There's a few nice sentiments scattered about though. Dontcha think?