I have an idea –– let’s call “fake” news “self-serving” news.
There is this sense I have sometimes of being hid in plain view, the complexities of being a writer what they are, I often cloak words in inference, misdirection. The mission is successful––quality prose that garners refreshingly few “eyeballs” among the dedicated readers. If I cannot take that to publishers, boosters, or follower driven revenue-meisters, that is kind of the point.
Bob Dylan, I see why he won a Nobel Prize. If the board is still awaiting a reply… read your parking meters.
There is this sense I have sometimes of being hid in plain view, the complexities of being a writer what they are, I often cloak words in inference, misdirection. The mission is successful––quality prose that garners refreshingly few “eyeballs” among the dedicated readers. If I cannot take that to publishers, boosters, or follower driven revenue-meisters, that is kind of the point.
Bob Dylan, I see why he won a Nobel Prize. If the board is still awaiting a reply… read your parking meters.
One thing that irks me as I’ve progressed as a musician is that those who play the best often have the least to say about things I am interested in. For example, drugs––if one has to mention drugs at all when one plays or talks about music, then one has has lost the battle.
Muse, music, amusing. Things that only are expressed under the influence are perhaps best left unsung (tell that to Jimi Hendrix). The natural heart and mind, not immune to herbalized insight–– tubular, chasing sun.
Muse, music, amusing. Things that only are expressed under the influence are perhaps best left unsung (tell that to Jimi Hendrix). The natural heart and mind, not immune to herbalized insight–– tubular, chasing sun.
This is not to say I don't see Fabric as a bit dangerous, on the edge. Beyond money, in the realm of the now, there is the potential to ensure that eight people don't control half of the world's wealth. The idea, embodied initially in music, is one of wealth shared worldwide, coopting short term capitalist imperatives.
The Hendrixian concept of everyone coming together and bringing their own instrument. At first it would be chaos, cacophony, but pretty soon new harmonic vibrations and earth-centered ways of communication would form. Stop me if I’ve said this before––angel variations.
The Hendrixian concept of everyone coming together and bringing their own instrument. At first it would be chaos, cacophony, but pretty soon new harmonic vibrations and earth-centered ways of communication would form. Stop me if I’ve said this before––angel variations.
The fundamental problem (and I have thought this since my days at UCSC, witnessing early raves, Thailand late 1990s––can’t blame age)––if the medium is too loud or techno-centered, the individual demand to be heard cancels out the ability to communicate as peers. A beat driven milieu is fundamentally about a DJ at a console. Not instruments interacting, listening, finding that third-eye mindframe to slip into as a group.
Tijuana is teaching me lots, I find the people surprisingly cosmopolitan and gracious, despite being an American in a time of Trump and walls. I have a song on Fabric Dos about the wall concept and how misguided it really is considering the intertwined nature of the American West and Mexico.
You still have real cowboys in Northern Mexico, no joke - two-generations-ago brethren of those who voted for Trump. They have more in common with the West and its ruggedly individualistic ways than huckster Trump and Ivanka do. That is why I don’t understand these exurban Trump cowboys very well. Either you have a pioneer spirit or you don’t.
The song about the wall is called “Separate My Soul” and it contains echoes of mid-60s West Coast garage rock, Argentinian corazon, and a RHCP streetside pulse. In my head, mind you. Hopefully I can pull it off. Playa de Tijuana studio feelers out there…
You still have real cowboys in Northern Mexico, no joke - two-generations-ago brethren of those who voted for Trump. They have more in common with the West and its ruggedly individualistic ways than huckster Trump and Ivanka do. That is why I don’t understand these exurban Trump cowboys very well. Either you have a pioneer spirit or you don’t.
The song about the wall is called “Separate My Soul” and it contains echoes of mid-60s West Coast garage rock, Argentinian corazon, and a RHCP streetside pulse. In my head, mind you. Hopefully I can pull it off. Playa de Tijuana studio feelers out there…
Technology update: About 6 months ago after losing my iPhone at Malasimbo I reverted to a simple SMS text phone. I notched it back another level after arriving California. No phone. Here in Tijuana at the Hotel C I have reverted to an even earlier habit, from the early 2000s––poor Internet connection. Dial-up simulacrum is very liberating indeed. Distractions away!
My goal is to make enough money so that I only need to be online one day a week. There are so many interesting live human interactions to be had. Don’t get me wrong, Device Exists. But does it control us? And does it disable in-depth discourse?
The slow one asked how he could get to the root of everything. The wise one answered, by speeding up. Change gears, expose yourself to new experience––sip carefully from creation’s grail.
#endwriter
My goal is to make enough money so that I only need to be online one day a week. There are so many interesting live human interactions to be had. Don’t get me wrong, Device Exists. But does it control us? And does it disable in-depth discourse?
The slow one asked how he could get to the root of everything. The wise one answered, by speeding up. Change gears, expose yourself to new experience––sip carefully from creation’s grail.
#endwriter
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