I come from an era in which music wasn’t a thing that plays while you gun down that last cgi character to break through to the promised land. I come from a land where listening was an activity in and of itself.
I, like several millennia of people before me, understand music almost as a sacrament. I don’t think of music as something I consume, I think of it as something that consumes and expresses me. When I listen to music, it is an event. When I play & write music it is the most honest I am as a human being.
I’m also a complete realist, and understand the world, as always constituted, cynically disavows the notion of honest expression.
And hence the ‘goals’…
I play music… That’s what I do.
I play music. Because I want to be honest.
They think I poison familial interactions because more often than not I want to try to figure out a musical idea…
Not only do I not understand the reaction, I kind of find it offensive…
Should I apologize for having ears?
But it bloomed above the pedantic paedeia of my learned life.
Repetition is for problem sets, not the joy division…
It amazes me that anyone can witness a day like this, or any other within our lifetimes and think that humanity could offer the universe something other than malice. We deny self-consciousness and by doing so, our shared life as a species.
But malice, anger, violence, greed, selfishness, and the bizarre explanations we supply for those impulses when questioned, can melt like dirt in a soft rain.
Being conscious enough of the world we engender is a crawl. To simply disavow the country of our birth would be a step forward. To disavow all countries would be a leap. To disavow the way human beings have been to coerced into being for their entire history would be a revelation. And to realize that we are all the same – a species of beings sharing our lives, learning and growing from each other, with lives forever intertwined, would be the step that takes us from malice to freedom.
And that will be the difference between the survival or extinction of our species.
Don’t let malice distract you. It really is that simple.
The hanging gardens of empire
The low brought high,
And the self-absolution
Of sadists, rekindles
The unconscious thought
That we are pure
in our peasant life.
Why do we accept the dead?
Why do we accept ‘tragedy’ in waiting?
And in the early morning hours
As the cloud consumed a town,
Foot over head, hand over hip…
Screaming for life atop the din
of our self-absolution,
8,000 people were gassed to their death,
By the greed of a few.
It’s not like this is anything new.