I shouldn't be posting to this thing anymore... there really is nothing left to say. All I can do now is sit around and wait... and practise, but that's a given. My career is on track anyway. Everything else is confusing... and for the most part bland.
For once, I'm not going to do anything to screw it all up... at least not actively... I may in fact slip up someday... sooner or later. I really don't know.
The point of this post is rather redundant. Seeing as I have nothing left to say, an entry about just that serves no intellectual purpose. Who said this blog had an intellectual purpose to begin with?
But I should say...
This is my 33rd and final entry. I may as well end the whole blog with a nice little tribute to that number that has always sat at the end of every mistake and fortune alike.
Don't worry, I'm still going to be around. You can keep up with my current predicament elsewhere. I'd like you to know, however, that there will be nothing quite as interesting as what I have posted in this compilation in the new one... it's simply a scoreboard. I'm counting the days until... I wish I knew what I'm counting... but it's going to be irrelevant either way.
I have nothing to ask for, nothing could be better. Go ahead... tell me where to go with all of my nonsense. At least I've kept myself entertained.
We'll see what happens in 36 days.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Pissing into the slipstream
I highly advise that you do not piss into the slipstream. It is a very good way to be labeled as someone offensive.
I am not sure where to begin, so I think I should just spell it all out very simply.
I am an idiot for not actually telling anyone what the hell is going on with me. I simply spew out random garbage that can be interpreted only by someone who has had enough horse tranquilisers to drop a killer whale... clear out of the sky...
See? It just keeps happening.
For no particular convenience to you, I will apologise:
I am sorry.
So there, I said it. I don't know why I make everything about the very subject that annoys you most, but I suppose it is a hell of a lot easier to deal with than what I'm actually faced with... although even that is entirely hypothetical. The problem with me is... I have no perception for this particular time-line. It is as though I continuously think at least five to seven days into the future... that is all well and fine if I have an important deadline to prepare for... but it's horribly distracting.
Now that I have all of that gaff out of the way, all I can tell you is that you should keep your head on your shoulders... and try not to give it to anyone else unless you're damn right that he or she will treat it properly. I say this of course only to those who are not sufficiently qualified.
I did say that I abandoned this blog. You are all correct. I am simply posting an entry for the sake of clearing my own mind. This has nothing to do with anything at all.... however if you are reading this, it is actually addressed to a particular individual, and she knows who she is.
I am going to pick up the ruddy phone and tell her all of the details anyway, but I'm not going to be a slobbering wet blanket about it...
I actually have my own twisted version of that... apparently when I am emotionally distraught I either act violently or start making senseless statements that could possibly be interpreted to have some meaning... I will make your head hurt if I am insecure, and that is a threat.
Oh, yes...
the journal...
I'm sorry if that happens to be a little more than what you want from me... I know the limits... you need not remind me. Yet I feel like I missed a lot of your life... I always will, but there are some things that happened that make you who you are in the here and now that I don't know about... and it's all left to my speculation or hindsight. Let me just say that I have let too many friendships expire and rot into nothingness... friendships that could have been maintained with considerably less effort. I would hate for anything to nullify what I've put into this, because it has felt so right... despite the insanity and unusually coincidental nature of our meeting... and the reasons I've chosen for staying in touch with you... but all of that is irrelevant. We have what we have, and I can be happy with that. I simply do not want to lose it...
Warm regards,
Charlie Steeplecliffe.
I am not sure where to begin, so I think I should just spell it all out very simply.
I am an idiot for not actually telling anyone what the hell is going on with me. I simply spew out random garbage that can be interpreted only by someone who has had enough horse tranquilisers to drop a killer whale... clear out of the sky...
See? It just keeps happening.
For no particular convenience to you, I will apologise:
I am sorry.
So there, I said it. I don't know why I make everything about the very subject that annoys you most, but I suppose it is a hell of a lot easier to deal with than what I'm actually faced with... although even that is entirely hypothetical. The problem with me is... I have no perception for this particular time-line. It is as though I continuously think at least five to seven days into the future... that is all well and fine if I have an important deadline to prepare for... but it's horribly distracting.
Now that I have all of that gaff out of the way, all I can tell you is that you should keep your head on your shoulders... and try not to give it to anyone else unless you're damn right that he or she will treat it properly. I say this of course only to those who are not sufficiently qualified.
I did say that I abandoned this blog. You are all correct. I am simply posting an entry for the sake of clearing my own mind. This has nothing to do with anything at all.... however if you are reading this, it is actually addressed to a particular individual, and she knows who she is.
I am going to pick up the ruddy phone and tell her all of the details anyway, but I'm not going to be a slobbering wet blanket about it...
I actually have my own twisted version of that... apparently when I am emotionally distraught I either act violently or start making senseless statements that could possibly be interpreted to have some meaning... I will make your head hurt if I am insecure, and that is a threat.
Oh, yes...
the journal...
I'm sorry if that happens to be a little more than what you want from me... I know the limits... you need not remind me. Yet I feel like I missed a lot of your life... I always will, but there are some things that happened that make you who you are in the here and now that I don't know about... and it's all left to my speculation or hindsight. Let me just say that I have let too many friendships expire and rot into nothingness... friendships that could have been maintained with considerably less effort. I would hate for anything to nullify what I've put into this, because it has felt so right... despite the insanity and unusually coincidental nature of our meeting... and the reasons I've chosen for staying in touch with you... but all of that is irrelevant. We have what we have, and I can be happy with that. I simply do not want to lose it...
Warm regards,
Charlie Steeplecliffe.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Of Men or Angels... and Microsoft
So, I began to edit one of my drafts for OMA tonight. The whole thing got deleted. It was grand.
The one good thing I wrote was decimated in a period of ten milliseconds.
It just goes to show how fragile some things are... or at least that I should make backups of all of my files.
Oh well...
And on another note... I have a problem with biting now... what is that about, anyway?
Yee Haw.
The one good thing I wrote was decimated in a period of ten milliseconds.
It just goes to show how fragile some things are... or at least that I should make backups of all of my files.
Oh well...
And on another note... I have a problem with biting now... what is that about, anyway?
Yee Haw.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Dead Silence
A friend of mine told me today that she has experienced periods of up to six months during which progress seems to come to an utter halt. I believe that I will tend to agree. Amidst the frustration, I can only offer myself more possibilities for anguish and annoyance. Only with diligence and perseverance will I overcome these fundamental issues...
If only I could speed up the clock just a little...
On a more practical note, I could spend some time being less disgusted with myself and simply more tolerant. Problems with no solution (or at least one that cannot be attained by physically striving toward it) must be dealt with accordingly... I must not try to attack these fundamental issues from the source... rather, I must focus on other basic fundamentals that will allow the problem areas to relax and simply fall into place within the equation I seek to finish. If only that could occur rapidly.
For what it is worth, I have no idea how I managed to fall into such dark traps as to thinking that this process was at all a matter of scientific additions... an abstract product must be created through abstract means... though they are conventional to the field I continue to explore...
So much of what we as humans prefer to take for granted are the things that we see as pure cause and effect relationships. Though there are many perceptions of the world, such as logic as we know it, that would prove "cause-and-effect" to be a basic fundamental to all worldly situations, it is almost never applicable... at least not if you are a lawyer. I now see why Joseph Heller was a genius.
Despite the enjoyment from Catch-22 that I may express, there are in fact cause and effect relationships... but why would a simplified view of the world ever be considered intelligent?
Geese be damned, let's kill all of the lawyers.
I think Hitler said, in 1809, that there would be no more problems. I am also inclined to believe that 31 is a very good number. Or is it 49?
Then again, you have those who are content to take their advice from a Ouija board. When one is not available, they will resort to pendulum, or other forms of entertainment and parlor tricks... Lest you find solace in reality, there is plenty of nonsense floating around to take all of your troubles away... or at least your understanding.
A simplified view of the world... and yet that is what I must do... I must do less, in order to accomplish more. Strange how it works, but it all boils down to one simple cause and effect relationship in the end...
Until the next lesson when that turns out to be false...
We still move in circles.
I am not feeling particularly poetic tonight, so I am afraid your sense of nausea will suffer the utmost neglect tonight.
Instead, I will write a riddle...
What does a person hear after dead silence?
No, there is no answer, it is a riddle... it would be boring for me to come up with one that actually makes sense...
Or does it?
It depends on how many combat missions you have flown, Yossarian. Even though you can go home with forty seven, your commanding officer says that you must fly fifty five... You may have to fly exactly 31 before you can go home for all I know. Numbers are irrelevant. You are far too sane. Go back to bed.
November is apparently novel month... I never know any of these things. Something tells me that half of these "novels" will be political satires directed at purely superficial causes. Where the hell is Voltaire when you need him?
Who needs a guillotine.
Sacre Bleu!
-Whitekeys.
If only I could speed up the clock just a little...
On a more practical note, I could spend some time being less disgusted with myself and simply more tolerant. Problems with no solution (or at least one that cannot be attained by physically striving toward it) must be dealt with accordingly... I must not try to attack these fundamental issues from the source... rather, I must focus on other basic fundamentals that will allow the problem areas to relax and simply fall into place within the equation I seek to finish. If only that could occur rapidly.
For what it is worth, I have no idea how I managed to fall into such dark traps as to thinking that this process was at all a matter of scientific additions... an abstract product must be created through abstract means... though they are conventional to the field I continue to explore...
So much of what we as humans prefer to take for granted are the things that we see as pure cause and effect relationships. Though there are many perceptions of the world, such as logic as we know it, that would prove "cause-and-effect" to be a basic fundamental to all worldly situations, it is almost never applicable... at least not if you are a lawyer. I now see why Joseph Heller was a genius.
Despite the enjoyment from Catch-22 that I may express, there are in fact cause and effect relationships... but why would a simplified view of the world ever be considered intelligent?
Geese be damned, let's kill all of the lawyers.
I think Hitler said, in 1809, that there would be no more problems. I am also inclined to believe that 31 is a very good number. Or is it 49?
Then again, you have those who are content to take their advice from a Ouija board. When one is not available, they will resort to pendulum, or other forms of entertainment and parlor tricks... Lest you find solace in reality, there is plenty of nonsense floating around to take all of your troubles away... or at least your understanding.
A simplified view of the world... and yet that is what I must do... I must do less, in order to accomplish more. Strange how it works, but it all boils down to one simple cause and effect relationship in the end...
Until the next lesson when that turns out to be false...
We still move in circles.
I am not feeling particularly poetic tonight, so I am afraid your sense of nausea will suffer the utmost neglect tonight.
Instead, I will write a riddle...
What does a person hear after dead silence?
No, there is no answer, it is a riddle... it would be boring for me to come up with one that actually makes sense...
Or does it?
It depends on how many combat missions you have flown, Yossarian. Even though you can go home with forty seven, your commanding officer says that you must fly fifty five... You may have to fly exactly 31 before you can go home for all I know. Numbers are irrelevant. You are far too sane. Go back to bed.
November is apparently novel month... I never know any of these things. Something tells me that half of these "novels" will be political satires directed at purely superficial causes. Where the hell is Voltaire when you need him?
Who needs a guillotine.
Sacre Bleu!
-Whitekeys.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I keep going in circles
Some people call that spiralling... I don't know what to call it, because circles are far too logical a pattern for my brain to move in.
I don't know... I think I just put my foot in my mouth. It tastes salty.
"It sounds like you're clubbing your girlfriend."
Wow, he hit that one on the head. I really hate analogies like that one... they sort of imply some sort of destruction of the instrument... As if to say that because of your tension you are a disgrace to the name of "clarinettist."
I'm likely to destroy both of my clarinets before my first Alexander lesson this week... I have three days. I'll let you all know what comes of that.
Though... on that note, I would suppose that if I had been a little earlier to the lesson I could have reminded him of the fact that we were working on tension sources... it is my fault as usual... so there is no point in beating myself up over these things, or destroying the very things that I love...
and for some reason I forget that this is not a private journal... which is why nothing I write in it is really even true... Something tells me I should vent my frustrations elsewhere...
I have a wonderful habit... as you may know... of taking out my frustrations on the people who care about me the most. It's such a charming attribute.
Maybe if I could simply calm down and relax a little when under pressure I wouldn't fall apart completely... or maybe I should just get some glue so I can repair the damage... I don't know...
And now for a poem:
On my way home the other day,
I saw a little bird...
She had brightly coloured feathers,
and a song too sweet for words.
Her wings would flit and flutter,
her beak would click sublime,
The notes were sweet cream butter,
playing out in four-four time...
When the bird came near me,
on a branch of sooty elm,
I did not think about it...
Emotions took the helm.
The melody flowed freely,
It warmed my softer side...
I felt the song deserving...
of a refrain... for the sake of pride...
Such pretty little feathers,
pulled from frail, tender skin,
fell into shoddy piles...
It seemed right, around the while...
a tiny little neck,
fractured, limp, and free...
Just a little songbird...
What more could there be?
-Arthur Jameson Haricourt-Bastard-Shorts III
I may have typed that before. The name at the bottom is entirely incongruous with the poetry... mostly...
That felt good. I am a terrible poet... but I thought it would help.
Here's to the mental vomit pail.
Hi Ho.
I don't know... I think I just put my foot in my mouth. It tastes salty.
"It sounds like you're clubbing your girlfriend."
Wow, he hit that one on the head. I really hate analogies like that one... they sort of imply some sort of destruction of the instrument... As if to say that because of your tension you are a disgrace to the name of "clarinettist."
I'm likely to destroy both of my clarinets before my first Alexander lesson this week... I have three days. I'll let you all know what comes of that.
Though... on that note, I would suppose that if I had been a little earlier to the lesson I could have reminded him of the fact that we were working on tension sources... it is my fault as usual... so there is no point in beating myself up over these things, or destroying the very things that I love...
and for some reason I forget that this is not a private journal... which is why nothing I write in it is really even true... Something tells me I should vent my frustrations elsewhere...
I have a wonderful habit... as you may know... of taking out my frustrations on the people who care about me the most. It's such a charming attribute.
Maybe if I could simply calm down and relax a little when under pressure I wouldn't fall apart completely... or maybe I should just get some glue so I can repair the damage... I don't know...
And now for a poem:
On my way home the other day,
I saw a little bird...
She had brightly coloured feathers,
and a song too sweet for words.
Her wings would flit and flutter,
her beak would click sublime,
The notes were sweet cream butter,
playing out in four-four time...
When the bird came near me,
on a branch of sooty elm,
I did not think about it...
Emotions took the helm.
The melody flowed freely,
It warmed my softer side...
I felt the song deserving...
of a refrain... for the sake of pride...
Such pretty little feathers,
pulled from frail, tender skin,
fell into shoddy piles...
It seemed right, around the while...
a tiny little neck,
fractured, limp, and free...
Just a little songbird...
What more could there be?
-Arthur Jameson Haricourt-Bastard-Shorts III
I may have typed that before. The name at the bottom is entirely incongruous with the poetry... mostly...
That felt good. I am a terrible poet... but I thought it would help.
Here's to the mental vomit pail.
Hi Ho.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Swiss Cheese
I do not like similes... they are for lazy people who can't determine the literal from the sarcastic. Yet, here I am about to use one:
My brain is like swiss cheese. Things fall through the holes. I can literally forget something that someone told me seconds after I hear it. My teacher has a name for this: Can't Remember Shit.
It just came up in studio on Monday... it's like I'm imitating him or something. I wish I could do that with the positive things about him... like his talent? Or maybe his sightreading ability?
No... I just get CRS....
And what is it with this inside joke about beer?
I have much to learn... all I know is that I'm for the most part satisfied with my current location.
All is well.
And then there are those random outbursts of flat out rage. It's really fun...
I need a job, and not one that's in the army... I mean a real, paying job...
I was hoping that YOROCK would be asking for a clarinettist by now, but there doesn't appear to be any such chance... If the ask me to do something for them, I will charge money... preferably $100 per performance... maybe I'll go with $50... there are two, after all. But first they have to call me... which probably won't happen.
I'm going to go to work in the music office... if they'll hire me... I can't even find out when applications are due. Communication is not a strongpoint where I'm at... nor is it anywhere else in the world.
Yet I still see the name John McCain or Barack Obama plastered on every website I see, and please don't get me started on Sarah Palin... or that Biden guy... I have had enough. Particularly, I have had enough of these people who have stars in thier eyes thinking that American politics is something wonderful, something magic that is completely unlike any other country in the entire bloody world... entirely corruption free. The minute they pick up the newspaper the morning after that Tuesday in November and read the headlines, they'll become cynical and probably start voting for a third party candidate... Oh, now we wouldn't want that to happen.
The whole republic is corrupt. Every. Damn. Bit. There is no way that the constitution is going to be acknowledged in the future, and there is no way that Americans will be any less focused on their president as a godlike figure. We are all doomed to a national religion of some sort, imposed in an amendment or not. If there is a thinking man or woman out there, I would like to meet him/her...
And I already have. My friends are the people who prefer not to talk about politics.
They are not the ones who wander about the streets with super-soakers filled with their own urine spraying anyone who doesn't pledge allegiance to thier party... Or the hordes of people who ran around drinking and vomiting into the doorways of shops during these "conventions," which may or may not have been an excuse to party. They are called "parties" aren't they? The rot could be scraped away any time.
As of now, I have decided to become a terrorist... not the kind who sprays people with his own urine, mind you. No, that is an activist. I will be a terrorist, because terrorists are inspired by Lucifer.
Lucifer is the bringer of light, intellect, and higher understanding. This means that anyone with any good in them is driven by emotional response alone. Gut responses are much more potent that well thought decisions in the first place. Combine the two, and you can have a real mess on your hands... or a complete genius. Or more insanity...
So George Lucas got it backwards. The whole thing with the jedi and that crap about not giving into fear, hatred, or love, for that matter was utter bullshit. We were wrong to envision a world without such things in the first place. Be careful... Don't take advice from Star Wars...
It is amazing, though... the very things many of us aspire to be lies in the same bed with the traditional depiction of the devil.
Don't think... just act.
So many will do that, this coming November. More power to them. At least they are perpetuating righteousness...
Politicians... They can help. Don't think, just listen to them.
Don't do drugs, Kids.
Matters of Men and Angels will resolve themselves. The end is near! Jump ship while you still can!
And quit watching the damned news.
Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!Calm down!
Yes. This is the answer, ladies and gentlemen. Calm down...
See you next time,
Mr. Whitekeys
Friday, August 29, 2008
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