Do you ever “feel” something. You don’t hear it or see it. Or smell or touch. It isn’t filtered through your senses. But perhaps your senses can simulate them. It isn’t even derived from your consciousness or your thoughts. No. It’s the feeling of something ‘other’. And why not? What you take in is a minuscule amount to what is actually out there to be. I don’t prescribe to pseudoscience. For all intents and purposes I’m a pretty rational, practical person to a fault even. But i know there are some things I don’t know. And some things I will never know. Falsifiability. It keeps the unknown an agent in the game.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on here. It’s for lack of time, for laziness, for apathy. I remember this platform because it was the first where I saw open forum discussion in a truly multimedia wide spread form. Tumblr united portions of the world. Maybe even more nuisance and niched than Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. For sure you seen the memes floating around on here. Jesus the memes. There’s something that so light hearted but so pertinent about them. I always wanted to do a dissertation on the entire meme phenomenon but honestly who wants to hear that? They are interesting though. They remind me of happier, simpler times.

It’s been maybe a year since I’ve posted on here and it feels as if the entire world has changed. I’m not afraid of change. I can change and adapt. I’m a pretty freaky person. Which brings me to the whole point of why I’m writing this anyway. I need to record this. I need there to be some recollection of the transformation of my ego and the transformation of the environment I’m in. I need a recollection of this ambition that has had me in a vice grip. I need a recollection of the type of animal I’ve become. I’ve realized a few very important axioms in life

1)DTA

2)NSA

3)Cautious Optimism at best (Murphys Law)

4)Don’t Rush (time is irrelevant)

5)Pain will never end

6)I will never rest

Two weeks ago I walked into a bar on the Lower East Side on a Friday night after a long day riding around in the city on my motorbike.
The bar was packed which put me off in the first place but I was surprised to find that I had gotten the negative attention of a middle aged Peruvian man drinking alone at the bar. Placing my items in a gap underneath and between our bar stools, he became agitated. He threw a few words at me and brushed me with his shoulders as he passed to use the restroom. As he passed I asked him if he’d like to use my beer for the fire he was trying to put out. It wasn’t clever but I was angry and felt the need to retaliate, especially for aggression I felt I didn’t warrant or was responsible for. He turned around and looked at me. I turned and looked at him. Several minutes pass. He returns. Brushes me again and at that moment I decided it was best if I just finish my beer and go. And that’s exactly what I did but when I went to grab my helmet and knapsack behind him, he tossed his body around yet again from agitation, muttering under his breath. Staring me down. I collect my things, walk to the door and stare at him. I stare at him inappropriately, in a manner to illicit a fight. He arose from his seat and made his way for the door. As we both exit patrons are outside having conversations and smoking cigarettes unaware that violence has fostered here and will ensue. He is 5'9″, 5'10″ maybe, and heavy. 230lbs at least. I weigh 160lbs on a good day. His shirt is now off. I knew I was slightly outmatched but it didn’t make a difference because I was never outmatched. I was never afraid. I felt nothing as I reached into my knapsack and pulled out the 4ft, 10lb reinforced steel chain that I had been using to lock the back tire of the motorcycle. I took it out and held it like a feral ape. Like a viper whose next meal was at the receiving end of this oncoming assault. I had no volition, no executive function except to kill. A husk. I became my unresolved familial issues. There was no hope in him for me. The bouncer at the next bar over just stood and watched. He’s seen plenty of brawls and knows they end one of three ways. He might as well have been a librarian. Seeing this, my adversary returned inside the bar just before a bigger crowd could gather. As he did I placed the chain back into the bag and walked around the corner where I smoked a single cigarette. I returned to the bar 10mins later, started the bike and drove across the Williamsburg Bridge home in the night.

Simon and I are in a good place. We’ll be taking press photos soon, finally so I’ve been trying to find my best face. Despite the fact that it’s been very difficult to look into a mirror.

Bijou

nevver:

Other dimensions, Nicholas Stathopoulos

(via nevver)

now-youre-cool:

I was at Artichoke in the West Village last night getting pizza and this timid guy is standing at the counter, not ordering, not speaking, not doing anything. Just standing still. So i walk up next to him and politely order a slice from the employee who had been standing there the entire time waiting to take orders. The timid guy next to me IMMEDIATELY turned to me and scoffed so hard and loud that i’m pretty sure some spit went flying out of his mouth. “Psshhhhfffffughhhhh! Ok, thanks, but I was here first waiting to order..” he says in his most unbearably rude, condescending, assholish tone. “Oh, sorry” I say, “I thought you had already ordered and were just waiting. My apologies.” He responded by rolling his eyes as hard as he could, in a way that normally only teenage girls can roll their eyes, then orders his slice of pizza.

So, it took me at most 10 seconds to order my slice and have that interaction with him. By accidentally cutting in front of him, it was maybe a 10 second difference between when I ordered and he ordered. Also, you know, he was just STANDING THERE SILENTLY NOT ORDERING for at least a full minute before that. And he still reacted as if I had bought the last slice of pizza on earth when he was entitled to it because he was there first.

Moral of the story? People are the worst. I don’t like people.

(via now-youre-cool-deactivated20190)

A Perfect Circle - Judith
(via thedemsocialist)

It’s not like you killed someone

(via tasteforthetasteless)

was playing this just the other day. great song

(via tasteforthetasteless)

trust the process

It’s 11pm and Simon says rather harshly that I have a “ritualistic fixation” as I load our gear for probably the hundredth time onto the makeshift plywood shelf above the drum set. The studio does not smell heavy of marijuana and sweat because we didn’t play anything that night. It appeared we only met at the place that we shared so many memories of writing music only to talk about everything that was wrong with what we were doing. It was definitely a chance for him to voice many of his concerns that he’d been harboring for some time. He’s speaking profusely but clearly and concisely with conviction as he always does. Simon is a purist and I have to stay there and listen. I have to listen because there is no one else. There is no bassist in the corner tapping away inattentively at his phone. No drummer downing beers. No manager. No producer. No one. Just me, him, and a list of grievances.

Simon and I are this band. And the dynamic…it’s very much like living in a civil union or marriage. I thought a couple of years ago, no, I wholeheartedly believed a couple years ago that I would find a group of individuals, a team that could help me carry the songs I had in my heart forward. And after years of toiling and wasted time, losing friends and lovers in between, it’s become apparent that such was not, is not, and will never be the case. I’m convinced that I will never find someone who is as dedicated to this as Simon is. You know how they say there is a fine line between the emotions of love and hate? His devotion is as palpable as his anger sometimes. He’s gotten a lot better and I don’t know if that’s because of the years we’ve spent cooperating or something the music is doing, but he definitely communicates better even if it is a bit caustic at times.
However, without Simons contempt, without his disdain for mediocrity, this project would not have progressed to where it’s gotten in the time that it has. His fury showed me that I should never settle for less. in the back of my mind I suppose I already knew that. but I needed someone to show me, to demonstrate, in the most honest way, in a most frightening way, what this was worth. I remember when he told me too. On the F train on our way home from a disastrous audition at Ultra Studios in Manhattan that we had spent money out of pocket for. Put simply, he told me that these musicians that I enlisted were not good enough for the music I was making. I think it was the first time that I began to have confidence in what I was doing. And if you want to be successful at ANYTHING you MUST have confidence in yourself, and in your team. I know thats easier said then done when you’re trying to find out what the hell exactly you’re doing. But keep at it and you’ll find your way. You will find your conviction, sometimes through revelations, most of the time through failure. A lot of what’s out there is designed to distract you and designed for you to fail and become dependent on again. There’s nothing wrong with failure, but it’s absolutely true it’s what you do after that counts. I can’t let him down. I can’t let anyone down for that matter. Because no one else is going to do this work. No one else will pick up that slack. It’s funny you strive so hard for something that you made yourself, you do yourself, and contrary to what some artist may say, is largely about yourself. But I don’t do it for me. Ha. it’s too late for me anyway. I do it for the lols. And the times. I do it for the ones to come who are like me. I do it strictly for whoever needs to hear it. exactly the way I did.

yes. I believe mainly this among many things is what immobilizes direct action on the part of the populous. do not indulge in fear. capital is control

(via fullpraxisnow)

when I’m home

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

brooklyn is crazy. I never lived in any place like it and I don’t think I ever will. I’ve lived in more than a few different parts of New York but never had I been in Brooklyn for any extended period of time besides the week I got robbed in Crown Heights. June marks a year in Bushwick. And if you read around, this neighborhood is essentially “east Williamsburg”, gentrification on it’s heels. But the borough itself is fascinating. First off, everything you heard is true and better and worse all at the same time. It’s surreal. Washington Heights was rough, but BK is cunning. You can’t sleep out here. For me to even go into all the details, to tell you how the Hasid’s are swallowing up every piece of property from Evergreen to Coney Island with no remorse at that, how the tech heads and millennials are reinvigorating the neighborhood but whitewashing it at the same time, to tell you how after a day of dealing with animals and human animals that I become part of the somber ritual of my 80 year old landlady Gladys listening to the same record for the 100th time as she ruminates over her late husband Pedro, which I’ve found scares me more than anything even after having my head inches from the tire of a moving 10 ton dump truck, to tell you that you have to keep your friends close but the competition closer, to tell you about the old Vietnam vet who’s made his homestead on the corner a few blocks away from here rain or shine, this would all be too much. I’ve found that as cliche as it sounds, it’s better to keep your ear close to the streets. Listen. Listen to what the people are saying and act accordingly. I continue my quest. My devotion hasn’t wavered. I’ll see to it that what needs to get done gets done. With a laser focus. All this while time continues to sieve.

(via unbelonging)