Feeling disconnected and dehumanized, connections frayed and broken.
I want to blame the depression, but this one isn't kowtowing to my bandy desires. This one is causal, it stems from inventory, not a chemically-induced flipflop. And yes, I know the inventory. It's something that I'd really rather do without.
Staying in soundtrack mode with a new mix that's a fairly eclectic hodgepodge of industrial, hellbilly, dark acoustic, klezmer, and a few other genres that mix together in this oddly energetic fashion. It would make for a good angry workout mix, which is a good step up from here; a move from flat to angry would be something.
Hit me baby one more time - smack my bitch up
As this continues, I expect that I'll be spiraling downward like Reznor during the Dark Times.
I write here because I still have words. They're not new words; they're the same words that have been around for years, decades, centuries. They're just put together in different ways.
And you read them, absorb them, possibly gather their meaning, maybe even read subtext.
It's a kind of connection, but it's not the connection that I need. More precisely, it's not completely the connection that I need, and the incomplete part is proving to be elusive, ephemeral, a mirage.
And I'm tired of chasing smoke.
If I was an artist, I'd bury myself in art. If I were a musician, I'd lock myself in a production room like Brian Wilson and make pet sounds. I'd go into the dark places and stay there for a while, maybe bring something back with me if I came back at all.
But I am not art. I am craft. I am technical precision, measurement and execution with limited aesthetic. I am function without form. I am a tool, utility and convenience, but not product.
And it's not enough anymore. I need to be more. I need to move past the grounding, move past the utility and into a new realm of purity, subjectivity, rarefied form, content outside of context.
I can always do. I need to be.
That can't happen for a while: It's internal. I've been widely external, and the externalities still have sway over me.
Nobody gives a rat's ass about your work in progress.