What I’ve experienced regarding love can be the gateway into some type of truthful existence, a mechanism to burst through societal stasis, and become that feeling as an expressive, bold, entity. I feel like an open field lit with the sun.
I think too much “self-care” is dangerous. Not because its harmful in the immediate sense of the word, but its possible that ritual brings repression in a person. Not everything you’re looking for is in the earth, or in a book someone else wrote teaching you how to read signs, or dissect some cool philosophy.
The things that define me, keep me from making progress. I guess I just kept eating all my eggs, hoping it would change. I’m not sure if it works, but kicking that bear’s ass, in front of an old lady, certainly moved some kind of marker for me to let it go and begin again.
I started to read the audition sheet they wanted me to memorize in a short time. Pick one of five brands, each with a paragraph describing a new product. One of them was McDonald’s, It was for some new chicken bullshit. Everyone in the room was white, and it felt like we were all eating at a bad cafeteria whose owner loved 1950s color red, bubblegum, and very high gloss.
Big Ears has turned into our weekend, a time for us to melt in the fabric of collective consciousness, to fit into the pretty showing of experimentations, mutated by the creative purveyors at A/C Entertainment.
I will dance with the silhouette eye in the obscure, always. Even as I traverse the mundane of this box I sit next to and have to push with a rolling eye. What will the edges of the sober breathe give to the madness? Can you, the staple being of your own existence set aside a propagandized life for the sake of living? The face bright, a mild sense of insanity compels you beyond this version, this vision of lost and the flowering gestures of your present time.
Every human being on Earth will owe his or her existence to Adolf Hitler. World War II resulted in the deaths of over 50 million people. What became of all the offspring those millions would have produced? After a few generations, we may be talking about quite a few people here, and some of them could be pivotal individuals in the stream of history.
We owe it to ourselves to make the press realize we’re not little pawns in a “soundtrack for your life” factory. We’re artists, and you shouldn’t get to treat the sounds like ketchup for your french fries. We owe it to the music to stop making our material so widely available for free. The business of music is fake, it doesn’t get much clearer. You have to pay to play, period. The new paradigm is quite disgusting and its killing me a little. Making me wanna be a flower on an empty hill.