Tokyo

Every great band/producer has a song called


The Books



"Tokyo" by The Books from Geoff Gresh on Vimeo.


STS9



Typolove "pen project" from Thijs Janssen on Vimeo.


I guess not every producer... but two of my favorite. STS9 and The Books. I chose two videos done by people that I like, rather than full music videos. Why? Because why give you a whole track? Why not jut give you an inspiring example!!


SNACK BREAK!!!
Hungryy? Or should I say... Hungary? I guess this is more like Espana, or Espanol, rather Hungarian. But hey, puns don't have to be spot on!!



Calaverita de Chowder y Schnitzel para Cartoon Network Latinamerica (2008) from Mauricio Olivares Paganoni on Vimeo.




Thanks Deadmau5!!!
Recently I was watching an interview by Deadmau5 and he said one guys who is out there doing it a lot better than him is Stimming. I am now in love. I may be slightly biast due to Deadmau5, but hey... The guy's got originality!



Beck's Berlin Sessions - Stimming from inthemix on Vimeo.

Gonzo

I often find myself residing in tunnels.
Hoping to escape this desperate hunt for the american dream.
I wait for the train to come and force my back into the stream.
Where I join with my musket and cap with millions of flopping fish.
I am forced to scribble down their clicks on my almost-dissolved paper.
As I  exaggerate their bubbles into 
imagination and motive laced with hope.






Gonzo.
The life and work of Dr. Hunter S Thompson
by Alex Gibney.
Who I always call Alex Grey.
Even though I am extremely familiar with Alex Grey.
I guess the familiar always comes back.





I guess he inspires me more than life itself.
Only when life doesn't inspire me.
He ran for sheriff in Aspen.
Oh if only I could have voted in 1970...

Don't forget. Write it down.

How picturesque, writing on a airplane napkin. What did I want to remember? Sometimes I change words in a book to make myself laugh. Like kite to kitties (pg 8, Safran Foer) This napkin takes really really long to write on, but at least it stimulates neat handwriting.

I wish I was Asian. I wish I was a little kid and I could write a book. I hope people care about what I write. What I have to say. I hope I can live because I write. So many words flood my mind when the pen hits the page... or napkin :]

I think that's a good sign. 

Can I impress you? 

Influence you?

Help you?

If I didn't have ADD, I could be more productive. I could read normally. I read and forget what it was that I just read and I travel on the page like Crystal from Fern Guyll. (see diagram 1) See how complicated that is? All the skipping back and forth.

My sister is very weird. A pretty simple person too. (reminder: blog = online modern free-form book?) I could sit here next to her and star for hours and she would not address me. I love her. BTW: I'm probably not going to explain any of my reminders... maybe later, but they are mainly for me. All of this is for me. I do explain because I like to pretend some day, after I die, (because I always think I will die young and tragicly) people will find everything I ever wrote. They will complile it and call it, "the lost letters of her" or something silly that reflects my spirit. And it makes me feel good to have those dreams.

I've been coming to terms lately with the fact that I love lists. Making them, loooking at them and visualising things getting checked off. Makes me happy. Sorry about the slopping handwriting. First person is for internal conflict and facinations. Third is for stories. I need to come up with a clover saying to build and help establish myself. Most writres usually make up cahracters though. I am purely non-fiction!  Oskar says "it makes my boots lighter" instead of saysing, "it's easier on me" or "it makes he happier" Maybe because he is made up and only the people for imagines have quirks like that.

I wish people could just put their hand on my head (like the guy who grabs hearts in Indiana Jones) and they can feel the inside of my head and skull and mushy brain while my fatty fluid covers their knuckles, and then just understand me.

This airplane napkin is going to rip if I don't stop. I enjoy 

writing 

vertically

more than 

horizontally. 

Maybe I 

need to 

be 

Japanese!

This is the song I was listening to. Fugazi is fantastic. In my opinion, the best that Ian Mckaye has ever had. Minor Threat was great, but they exploded into something I believe was never meant to be. The true true punk, in my opinoion, lies within Fugazi... I guess the punk fades into grunge, but goodness, I'm a grunge freak too!

More than Machinery, We Need Humanity

Summer is here and I think I know what I'm doing. I'm angsty and ready to be out of my house. Just the typical teenage day. At least I'm free from schedule and routine.
I leave for Asia in two days... Wait. One and a half. I'm lying in my bed with sun-blistered shoulders, listening to the Aquabats. Always listening. My room is covered with my laundry I just did, but had no time to put away last night. I have half read books scattered around my room and my receiver on, playing only the skipping of the end of my Tom Waits record.

My puppy just came into my room and is falling asleep with his head on my ankle. I love summer because I get to spend more time with him. I love my dogs, sometimes more than I love people.

Anywho, I just got a hookah a couple days ago and have been absorbing smoke 10x my normal rate. And I have minute freak outs, where a blanket of anxiety smothers me with images of my lungs being crusty and black. So I prayed for my lungs today. I sent them happy vibes and short sentences of encouragement. I believe that is enough to keep them alive.

I think It is beautiful how animals are so sensitive to things that humans spend their whole lives trying to ignore. In the middle of sleep, my dog, Grayson's muscles all tightened as his heart rate reached 34934080458390485 bpms. Who knows why... the wind.. or maybe the sound of footsteps downstairs.

I've noticed that we tend to trade awareness for comfort.

We choose ignorance in a world of information. We tend to ignore situations that do not effect us. Civil wars, genocides, and slow and subtle suppression of human and civil rights. We do this with the Patriot Act, with Uganda, with Thailand, with Tibet, with our own government and the 100 thousand dollar cameras posted at every stoplight.

We sit in front of computer screens every day, drenched in Novocain. All we know is that ever-changing screen. We ignore the man in our basement stealing our inheritance and dignity. We forget about our children, playing in the streets. We drive to work every day, blocking out the horns of cars and the screaming children at restaurants.

No wonder we have lost touch with the earth. No wonder we no longer understand each other.

We should not be spending hours gazing at glowing rectangles. TV, computers, I phones... They are turning us into robotic machines... "more than machinery, we need humanity"

This is Shpongle.

What do you see?

Alienation, isolation
Independence achieved through
Lack of motivation

When we speak, we speak of ourselves
We speak of women we sang soliloquies of seduction
Laced with lies to
To foster an urge
We speak of our new ford pickups
Only $50,000 dollars, none of which we earned

We speak of vanity of hatred of grime
The sludge seeps from our mouths
Dripping onto the dirty floor
Piling up, as we wade through the putrescence
Until we are one, indistinguishable
Mass of slugging sludge

I want not to be sludge!
Life, break me free
Punk, make me me
Folk, give me she
That girl I wish to be
For I have no identity
Save for the one inside of me
My soul lives, alone
People are foreign
People are weird
People are me
We are energy
Begging to feel
Share
Love

But how?

How do we relate when we become someone else
When we borrow style and mind
When we assume the vocal positions of our peers
And resemble each other, in an army of urban outfitter
When we see only fabric, facial structure and faux silhouettes

For I am not who you see
When you look at me
Detached from myself,
My reflection reflects nothing
Mirrors are futile-unable to reflect
Reflect: to manifest or bring back

Not to project oneself
One's passions, love, bings, ideas
Physical appearances
Mannequins walking around
Faces painted with rainbows
Is this all we are?
Is this all people see?
Reflections of our parents' disproportional noses
Buggish eyes and bowed legs
Why can't we be without?
Shedding our skins
Our thin, faded hair
And overly generous love handles

Then
Become
Human

We find our voices
We shout out our true souls
And become what we admire
We embrace each other in love



Jeffrey Lewis is so great. Some say a male version of Kimya. Not a fan of Kimya, her voice is too childish. And Jeffrey does these amazing "Complete history of.."s and released an album of all crass covers. He's got the urgency of the punk scene and the heart of a folk singer. Ugly Nerdy little Sweetheart.

HI. My name is who? My name is what?

Well, I think I want this blog to be a medley of me. I want to be a writer. And the other day my uncle told me I should start a blog. When he suggested it, I had this vision of me writing prefectly composed sentences including words and phrases people enjoy reading. And I got really excited about it and went home and vented for my first blog. Maybe that's my problem. Anywho, I want to write. About music, politics, philosophy, thoughts, urges, ideas, loves, hates, rules, anarchists, butterflies, and clouds.

"I believe God would rather have us love than be assholes."

I don't believe in the bible as a whole.

I don't believe in my biology textbook as a whole.

I don't believe what you say to me is real.

And I don't believe what I tell myself is right.

I believe there is good and there is bad in everyone.

I believe people are beautiful and love is everywhere.

We are just too busy to share it.

We are too scared to love.

Too afraid to care.

We cling to things.

To beliefs.

To reliefs.

Like parties, raves, and church.

We spend our lives distracting ourselves and running from who we are.

"People will do anything no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls"

We create new people.

Create new opinions. New ideas.

Or maybe we have no opinions and just agree.

Or just disagree.

Back to the subject.

This is for my motivation.

I am a lone ranger on this site.

And these letters are for...

For...

I guess for my uncle

and for myself.

Here's a great song by a man by the name of BLockhead. Son of a Sculptor, birthed in Manhattan. He has many different sounds and incorporates old sound clips from old films with overlaying hip-hop beats and downtempo electro influences.