Mistaken radio ride.
Not too far, the boundaries are enormous, encompassing, for the price.
The typewriter is too loud, unforgiving.
My handwriting is untrustworthy, unbeautiful, a poor receptacle for thought.
The computer isn't tactile enough, too flat, and too easy to type and repeat, too forgiving
. Just as I have no place for my words, my images too float.
As does my mind, on the road driving to a meredith monk soundtrack, vocal underpinnings, the reachings, roaring...this is frightening music...taking me on a lulling tour somewhere, oughtn't trust yourself or the sound.
Language is always the problem, a fitting of neither here nor there, a pasted sheen on sidewalks, an unforgettable problem within your gut at the hints of sound
Too indecisive. Got to get out of here.
SHapes and reflections and the spotted shadow of my mind.
there's a million sorts of freedom i'm waiting to know
It is in layers, and depth, and light and secrets. the what to be discovered in each moment and person
So silly questions.
What should this blog be? WHat do I need it to be?
Right now I need
1. A place to share my photographs
2. a place to share my music experiences
3. A place to rant and rave.
So I suppose withoout further ado I must change this blog, so that it allows these things.
I am too umpatient to write down recipes, so thats no good.
I never take pictures of my art enough. ANd the pictures I do I can share anyway.
I don't want to use my blog purely for self promotion. Though I will share what I am excited about.
I would like it to be a place where I can talk about my goals, musically and otherwise.
I AM freaked out that I have no readers and yet I pretend I do so.
I do feel every day In NYC like Oscar is around.
Now I've said it. in the scariest, safest place in the world
Now, I must go to sleep. i shall never get to bed before 3 am again.
Thesis tomorrow.
Maybe I'll tell you about it.
CALL DAN!
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