Me: if you had to choose how to die. How would you die?
Alex: being shot. I want to look beautiful when I die.
Me: what about dying of dehydration
Alex: no. Then my lips would get chapped and no one could kiss me.
Me. Freezing to death.
Alex: no then I would turn blue.
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Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
They won't stop laughing.
She was stabbed to death.
He stabbed her 29 times.
I saw every single thrust.
I tried to stop him, but he held me back with his knife.
I knew I needed help, but no one seemed to notice the poor woman, bleeding on the ground.
I stopped someone who was passing by, and pointed to the dying woman.
He stopped and looked at her, but saw no one else giving her attention.
So he walked off.
As I watched him walk off, I heard a disturbing sound from behind me.
The bleeding woman let out a cry for help.
But she choked on the blood her throat.
I heard the bubbling and gargling of blood, and I could see the spurts of blood from her neck.
I saw a group of kids, laughing amongst themselves, and pointing to the woman.
They think it's funny.
I want them to find help, but they tell me that life's short.
Might as well laugh...
I yelled, almost screamed, at them to find help.
They only laughed harder.
Why is no one doing anything?
Why are they all just laughing?
They laughed harder.
Others joined in.
It seemed like the world was laughing.
They look for more things to laugh it, and take the utmost enjoyment at the 25th stab.
I lose it.
I begin to yell, and hit the crowd of laughing spectators.
They only laugh more and more.
They need to laugh.
They live to laugh.
He stabs her for the 26th time.
She screams blood.
The world is now filled with the sounds of yelling, cheering, LAUGHING, and the spitting up of blood.
27.
I feel my stomach giving in.
28.
This isn't real. This isn't real.
29.
The sounds of blood stop.
And as the man walks away from the bloody corpse.
The still won't stop laughing.
He stabbed her 29 times.
I saw every single thrust.
I tried to stop him, but he held me back with his knife.
I knew I needed help, but no one seemed to notice the poor woman, bleeding on the ground.
I stopped someone who was passing by, and pointed to the dying woman.
He stopped and looked at her, but saw no one else giving her attention.
So he walked off.
As I watched him walk off, I heard a disturbing sound from behind me.
The bleeding woman let out a cry for help.
But she choked on the blood her throat.
I heard the bubbling and gargling of blood, and I could see the spurts of blood from her neck.
I saw a group of kids, laughing amongst themselves, and pointing to the woman.
They think it's funny.
I want them to find help, but they tell me that life's short.
Might as well laugh...
I yelled, almost screamed, at them to find help.
They only laughed harder.
Why is no one doing anything?
Why are they all just laughing?
They laughed harder.
Others joined in.
It seemed like the world was laughing.
They look for more things to laugh it, and take the utmost enjoyment at the 25th stab.
I lose it.
I begin to yell, and hit the crowd of laughing spectators.
They only laugh more and more.
They need to laugh.
They live to laugh.
He stabs her for the 26th time.
She screams blood.
The world is now filled with the sounds of yelling, cheering, LAUGHING, and the spitting up of blood.
27.
I feel my stomach giving in.
28.
This isn't real. This isn't real.
29.
The sounds of blood stop.
And as the man walks away from the bloody corpse.
The still won't stop laughing.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Musical Phases
I'm pretty sure every musician has his or her own set of phases or stages in their musician ship in which they've grown as an artist. Here are my phases.
Possibly, the loudest and most obnoxious phases in my opinion. I was the kid who thought that there was only one type of good music: loud, fast, and crazy trash metal. I grew out my hair so that it would move when I did headbangers. I said all other music was for the weak. I worshipped satan. All and all, I was sort of annoying. This lasted well into a year, but after that I started to grow sick of metal, metal heads, metal guitarists, and most of all... metal kids.
1. Metal Head Kid
2. Alternative Rock
This was a sort of gray area, and I'm not really sure how I got to this phase. I think it was to annoy the metal heads that I still knew (they hated everything that wasn't metal). I listened to 99X and acoustic music. I got a haircut, started wearing casual clothes, looked like I worked in a cubicle. This is also a blurry line of when I became an indie snob. I started playing drums A LOT. Two hours a day during some weeks; six hours whenever we had a snow day. I learned all sorts of neat drum stuff.
3. Indie Snob
This phase was fortunately short lived. I was the kind of person who wouldn't listen to a band if it was popular. I'm not gonna talk about it too much, because the only thing I find more annoying than indie snobs, are the people who complain about them to much.
4. Vocal Pedagogy Obsessor
This is a weird one that I don't see many other people going through. This was a point in my musical life when I really wanted to be a singer. I was very self-conscious about my singing because people started telling me how bad I was, and I wanted to prove them wrong. I'm still a bit of method obsessed singer, because I strongly believe singing can be taught. Anyone who says that you're born with a good singing voice is full of it and doesn't know what they're talking about. This went along with a musical theatre obsession *shiver*.
5. Teen Pop Sensation
This was last year, essentially. I made a pop album for my personal project and started producing music. I was really big on the entire producing thing. I still love it. It takes a lot of tedious work and I love the amount of focus it requires. I liked making pop music, mostly cause I thought it was funny, but I began to take myself a bit too seriously. I sort of realized that I'm not cut out to be a pop star, but I still think it's an interesting genre every few years when there's new music on the stations.
6. Classical Music Composer
Realizing that I'm not cut out to be a performer, I've turned much more to composing. I love piano. I love classical music and it engulfs way to much of my life. The problem is that, nobody listens to classical music. There are very few people who I can actually talk to about music who wouldn't think I'm a snob, or would take me seriously. I really love to talk about classical music, also, which makes it a bit more annoying that nobody wants to talk about it. I had to go through the entire or ordeal of not being born to love classical music. Believe it or not, you get a lot of judgement from both sides if you suddenly gain an interest in classical music. A lot of friends said that I was only listening to it to sound smart, which became my most dreaded phrase when I first started. I was deadly self-concious about playing piano, because a few friends had said that I was doing it to be pretentious. Looking back I don't know why that was a fear, but it's still upsetting to know that people actually do that. What's worse is I'm developing an interest in Jazz. What are they gonna think of that?
7. To Be Continued...
Music
I love music. I know, almost everyone loves music, but I really just don't give it enough credit. It's been that one constant since I was in 6th grade. I've been obsessed with it in some way since I first played with Garageband's virtual keyboard when I was 12 years old. Even if my interests have expanded, they've never moved from music.
Strangely enough, before that, I knew almost nothing about music. The only songs I knew were Twinkle Twiknle Little Star and Toxic by Britney Spears (Don't judge. I was 9. I hadn't recovered from the 90s). Since then, I've been forever doomed to head down a musical path. I've gone through an entire rock band of instrumental obsession; practicing whichever instrument whenever I got the chance. I've been through every form of snobbery I can imagine (with more to come). I could talk on forever about every sort of phase I've been through.
Also strange, music has had very little effect on my life outside of music. Most of that has to do with the fact that not many people actually want to talk about music. I need to organize these posts better. I'm starting to realize that it was a bad idea to write with a prompt as broad as 'music.' Let's try this again.
Strangely enough, before that, I knew almost nothing about music. The only songs I knew were Twinkle Twiknle Little Star and Toxic by Britney Spears (Don't judge. I was 9. I hadn't recovered from the 90s). Since then, I've been forever doomed to head down a musical path. I've gone through an entire rock band of instrumental obsession; practicing whichever instrument whenever I got the chance. I've been through every form of snobbery I can imagine (with more to come). I could talk on forever about every sort of phase I've been through.
Also strange, music has had very little effect on my life outside of music. Most of that has to do with the fact that not many people actually want to talk about music. I need to organize these posts better. I'm starting to realize that it was a bad idea to write with a prompt as broad as 'music.' Let's try this again.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
The Search for Beauty
Have you ever had a phrase that just keeps scrolling through you head? You don't know where it came from or what it means; it's just there. One of my more recent cases (remind me to make a list of them) was a voice telling me, "You are in a constant search for beauty." I feel like this describes the artist in general, but I have come to see the ways it applies to me specifically. Aside from a common appreciation for the external world, I also find myself interested in the very detailed feelings and emotions that are affected by my environment. And there is a great deal of stress in this when I can't find the outlet for this. I think this is why the artist/creative type needs to create. It's to share their perception of the world in as accurate a way as possible.
A few weeks ago, I went to a spinal injury recover center with Maura. I prefer to think of it as a hospital, even though it's not exactly the same. I have been to any sort of hospital very few times, and whenever I do, the atmosphere is always more unfamiliar than the last. The interesting thing to note about this most recent visit, was the fact that I was silent (to a degree). This is a very impressive task for me. I couldn't exactly describe my reasons for being so quiet, and I sort of brushed at off as a lack of comfort. In retrospect, it was related to the unfamiliar setting, but to be more precise, I was taking in my surroundings. In the background, situations within the setting built themselves; the elements that create the atmosphere searched for any entrance to the forefront of my brain; I was in desperate search of a way to describe it.
I never did find it, and I'd need to go back a few more times before I get an answer, but I've left with a certain idea that may be important. It relates to aesthetics. What is beauty. Well, despite the title, beauty is somewhat trivial in this sense. It describes one part of a whole. And this is for me personally; I get the feeling it doesn't apply to everyone. The alertness that comes with emotions is directly related to the fruitless attempt to try and explain or understand them. I remember a point, where I'd take careful note whenever I'd cry, because it was so rare that I ever cried. I wanted to understand it, and once I did, I stopped noticing. This happens through a myriad of emotions, most of which don't have names. A common denominator between them is that they are all brought about by sense memory.
Rather than rambling on about this phenomenon, I think it would be more comfortable if I listed examples instead.
<I'll finish this when I find more examples> <Need more time to search desktop. tired.>
A few weeks ago, I went to a spinal injury recover center with Maura. I prefer to think of it as a hospital, even though it's not exactly the same. I have been to any sort of hospital very few times, and whenever I do, the atmosphere is always more unfamiliar than the last. The interesting thing to note about this most recent visit, was the fact that I was silent (to a degree). This is a very impressive task for me. I couldn't exactly describe my reasons for being so quiet, and I sort of brushed at off as a lack of comfort. In retrospect, it was related to the unfamiliar setting, but to be more precise, I was taking in my surroundings. In the background, situations within the setting built themselves; the elements that create the atmosphere searched for any entrance to the forefront of my brain; I was in desperate search of a way to describe it.
I never did find it, and I'd need to go back a few more times before I get an answer, but I've left with a certain idea that may be important. It relates to aesthetics. What is beauty. Well, despite the title, beauty is somewhat trivial in this sense. It describes one part of a whole. And this is for me personally; I get the feeling it doesn't apply to everyone. The alertness that comes with emotions is directly related to the fruitless attempt to try and explain or understand them. I remember a point, where I'd take careful note whenever I'd cry, because it was so rare that I ever cried. I wanted to understand it, and once I did, I stopped noticing. This happens through a myriad of emotions, most of which don't have names. A common denominator between them is that they are all brought about by sense memory.
Rather than rambling on about this phenomenon, I think it would be more comfortable if I listed examples instead.
- Sight
- I have countless pictures of people, most of whom I don't know, who strike me in a certain way. The kind of people who automatically dray my attention.
<I'll finish this when I find more examples> <Need more time to search desktop. tired.>
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