i'll say this, grinning in the rear-view for too long causes one to wreck a car. i wonder if that is true for myself of late. in a very recent exchange, i'll be open to say that i've grown up for better and for worse this past year. for one, my beard is now thicker (humor ladies and germs...) as well the scratchings on my hands. i know not where my future lies still, but my past haunts like my shadow with revenge wrapped tightly round it's wrist. i look at the things i've done in the name of fellowship, grace, temper, and dare i say love; not one of which has done me the way i intended. rather, God has had a plan all along. as it turns out, i'm a rather lousy listener. looking back i wish that i had seen all of the signs and cues to wave me off the troubled path my stride led me down. still, i have very few regrets (mostly only those that led to bodily injury.) but more to the point, as i gaze back at the hills and depths i've traversed, i see only series of events that somehow seem rather discontent and irreconcilable with my current life. "progress" from a hopeful and prideful young man (in a good way if there ever were such a thing) to one quickly becoming devoid of contention with status; befuddled by unseen observation and coy judgement balanced only by the meek hope for what is next to come. it's an awfully harsh understanding, but one that i think not far off. we as people tend to see what we want, to hear what truly has never been said. as if that weren't enough for the present, our look back to the past makes this practice even more troublesome. what we think to be eye-witness testimony in the form of first person narratives, reveals itself only to be the back end of a pressing 'what if?' conversation held on the picket lines of memory and fraud.
now that's terribly meta-speculative. but it can't help but be asked: how do my memories correspond truly to what i've taken in as experience? a question i don't care to address in this state of mind (also the Cartesians could tell you much more than you would want to hear on the subject). but rather, i've found (corresponding to my original intentions for this indulgent quest) that my past does nothing for me. i look back and see the happy things, and ignore the bad things. you might suggest this isn't such a bad thing. i'll say this, i'n a rough time would you rather see what you once had and lost, or where you've always been? i'd suffice to say that if all i'd known was heartache, the change would be welcome. drama and persistent concern for relation to others is a volatile equation: the products of which possess a viscous reminder, even to this day, of my own mistakes.
i'll submit that, once again, a person's past is his enemy. it reminds the sinner where he had been and sins he's acquired. it reminds the saint of a similar situation and the inadequacies of his current self. Psalm 37:37 reads, "Mark the blameless and behold the upright, for there is a future for a man of peace." my only concern is my own peace. my past offers none. my future is the only semblance of peace i can muster. there, and only there in the comforting arms of a Man who is Peace, will i obtain my favor. my sutchers, fresh though they may be, are naught. admirable and hollow those words echo within my head. i do believe them. i just often forget them.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
the absurdity of anger.
here's something a bit different to think about: as of late, i've found myself in a number of situations where i've become either angered or frustrated for one reason or another. i'll simply choose my own vices for the purpose of explanation.
i'm someone who struggles with pride. i'll admit that. i've no shame in that. but i find myself caught in a dangerous place, more often that i'd hope to be, of failing, admitting, praying, angering, thinking, angering, thinking, etc. now to most that might not be the typical cycle of sin. to most it seems a bit crazy. but i didn't name this blog 'the boy who thinks too much' for nothing. you see, i get mad at my own iniquities: that is to say i get upset that i fail in the same way over and over again. think of it this way, i'll screw up some situation where i'll run my mouth or say something stupid. later, whether a good amount of time has passed or not much at all, i'll realize the error of my ways (if i do at all). usually there is a vain attempt to reconcile, but this moment is usually followed by regret, sorrow, and frustration at my own stupidity. so i'll think a little more, mostly about what would cause me to act in such a regrettable way. but then a new moon has risen in the sphere of my consciousness, beckoning my gaze upward. i see it, and embrace it's worth. it speaks to me, "why are you mad at yourself?" i am now at war within myself. i'm mad about my actions, but i know harping on myself won't help. but how am i to learn? how do i prevent myself from diving headfirst into a pool of opportune filth?
just when you would think the incessant conversation is over, i take another step back in perspective, forever expanding the boundaries of my conscious by deeming the conversation illiterate and immature. ah. it makes for a headache.
i'm someone who struggles with pride. i'll admit that. i've no shame in that. but i find myself caught in a dangerous place, more often that i'd hope to be, of failing, admitting, praying, angering, thinking, angering, thinking, etc. now to most that might not be the typical cycle of sin. to most it seems a bit crazy. but i didn't name this blog 'the boy who thinks too much' for nothing. you see, i get mad at my own iniquities: that is to say i get upset that i fail in the same way over and over again. think of it this way, i'll screw up some situation where i'll run my mouth or say something stupid. later, whether a good amount of time has passed or not much at all, i'll realize the error of my ways (if i do at all). usually there is a vain attempt to reconcile, but this moment is usually followed by regret, sorrow, and frustration at my own stupidity. so i'll think a little more, mostly about what would cause me to act in such a regrettable way. but then a new moon has risen in the sphere of my consciousness, beckoning my gaze upward. i see it, and embrace it's worth. it speaks to me, "why are you mad at yourself?" i am now at war within myself. i'm mad about my actions, but i know harping on myself won't help. but how am i to learn? how do i prevent myself from diving headfirst into a pool of opportune filth?
just when you would think the incessant conversation is over, i take another step back in perspective, forever expanding the boundaries of my conscious by deeming the conversation illiterate and immature. ah. it makes for a headache.
here's to you keith...
hello reader.
as the first post, let me begin by thanking you in advance for the time it takes you to read this. it's appreciated very much.
in a recent article (or perhaps more equivocally deemed rant, diatribe, scalding, or ear-beating), keith buckley all but spat on the current pop music industry [article found here:
but here is where we connect: music is not a means. he doesn't come right out and say it, but everything mr. buckley alludes to can be traced back to the ideas of shoddy workmanship, sales, and fame. amidst the "glorious american dream" (which admittedly we are ALL searching for in some vain attempt or another), these sums balance equations to nothing more than money. i'll make it clear, THIS TYPE OF MUSIC IS ABOUT MONEY AND GLORY. one might argue that, 'perhaps synthetics and beefy 808's are poetic and a new movement in music.' i would respond with such: it isn't. it's fake. it's downright stupid and manipulative. music, as classified in antiquity and people who are much smarter than i, is an art. "so what? if an artist feels that electronics..." malarkey! this is not someone creating art. this is someone telling a computer, or the interweb, or some combination of a new-fangled lust box and Rob Van Winkle-born creativity. my point, in so many words, is best expressed with analogy: you can make a mona lisa with a printer.
so aside from the xerox-quality reality of 'pop-core' compositions, the question of "why" is the next on my list. i'll return to this idea of the "american dream." we all search after what can make us the most money, with the least amount of work. judging from a few conversations i've had recently, both with people whom i respect and others that i don't, song writing isn't work. well to me it is. i could see that if your idea of songwriting is write everything in the same open key and then detune a guitar a half, whole, or Lord willing, one and a half steps to change the key of your grunts to match your sqeadlies and chugga chugga's--that's not hard. sorry kids. here's a task for you: write a song in B flat without detuning your guitar one and a half steps (claudio did). or don't and sell records. i digress... the glamor-core 'movement' (not that i want to dignify our "...poor man's justin bieber[s]" with such a cataclysmic regard but rather it's easier for the sake of conversation) is quite literally ruining music. there is no passion in it. when you can get a computer to churn out single after single to mass produce and market to an audience of susceptible preteens, and apparently, indie-hipsters, you take the easy way out. how can you claim you've done something, ground breaking or not, when a computer and a sound tech run half your show? you can't. do you know why? because it's the fast track to money. kids buy that crap. as keith said, flashy shirts and cool phrases sell to kids that don't think.
it's a little unnerving to think that our post-cold war era western/post-modern worldview is no longer to be escaped by entering into rebellion through the ranks of counter culture. as it turn out, counter culture is now just part of the culture. and the goal of that culture? money and success. so why shouldn't you take the easy way out and bank some benjamins (that's what the kids are saying these days, no?) i'll tell you why: because it's a mockery of art. i don't care if you're "expressing yourself," it's still crap. "but what about if someone likes it? how can you call it crap?" my only response is the band nickleback. they suck. everyone knows that. let me explain something: you don't get famous by doing something that is either a.) terrible, or b.) already been done. so why should you get famous for doing both? fame used to be earned by being notable due to skill or originality. it sure isn't anymore. i'm sick of that. do a little work and be proud of what you do, that is, if you can actually do something. we've all got gifts and talents. perhaps if you can't make good music, you have talents elsewhere. but that's not the hip thing to think...
as the first post, let me begin by thanking you in advance for the time it takes you to read this. it's appreciated very much.
in a recent article (or perhaps more equivocally deemed rant, diatribe, scalding, or ear-beating), keith buckley all but spat on the current pop music industry [article found here:
but here is where we connect: music is not a means. he doesn't come right out and say it, but everything mr. buckley alludes to can be traced back to the ideas of shoddy workmanship, sales, and fame. amidst the "glorious american dream" (which admittedly we are ALL searching for in some vain attempt or another), these sums balance equations to nothing more than money. i'll make it clear, THIS TYPE OF MUSIC IS ABOUT MONEY AND GLORY. one might argue that, 'perhaps synthetics and beefy 808's are poetic and a new movement in music.' i would respond with such: it isn't. it's fake. it's downright stupid and manipulative. music, as classified in antiquity and people who are much smarter than i, is an art. "so what? if an artist feels that electronics..." malarkey! this is not someone creating art. this is someone telling a computer, or the interweb, or some combination of a new-fangled lust box and Rob Van Winkle-born creativity. my point, in so many words, is best expressed with analogy: you can make a mona lisa with a printer.
so aside from the xerox-quality reality of 'pop-core' compositions, the question of "why" is the next on my list. i'll return to this idea of the "american dream." we all search after what can make us the most money, with the least amount of work. judging from a few conversations i've had recently, both with people whom i respect and others that i don't, song writing isn't work. well to me it is. i could see that if your idea of songwriting is write everything in the same open key and then detune a guitar a half, whole, or Lord willing, one and a half steps to change the key of your grunts to match your sqeadlies and chugga chugga's--that's not hard. sorry kids. here's a task for you: write a song in B flat without detuning your guitar one and a half steps (claudio did). or don't and sell records. i digress... the glamor-core 'movement' (not that i want to dignify our "...poor man's justin bieber[s]" with such a cataclysmic regard but rather it's easier for the sake of conversation) is quite literally ruining music. there is no passion in it. when you can get a computer to churn out single after single to mass produce and market to an audience of susceptible preteens, and apparently, indie-hipsters, you take the easy way out. how can you claim you've done something, ground breaking or not, when a computer and a sound tech run half your show? you can't. do you know why? because it's the fast track to money. kids buy that crap. as keith said, flashy shirts and cool phrases sell to kids that don't think.
it's a little unnerving to think that our post-cold war era western/post-modern worldview is no longer to be escaped by entering into rebellion through the ranks of counter culture. as it turn out, counter culture is now just part of the culture. and the goal of that culture? money and success. so why shouldn't you take the easy way out and bank some benjamins (that's what the kids are saying these days, no?) i'll tell you why: because it's a mockery of art. i don't care if you're "expressing yourself," it's still crap. "but what about if someone likes it? how can you call it crap?" my only response is the band nickleback. they suck. everyone knows that. let me explain something: you don't get famous by doing something that is either a.) terrible, or b.) already been done. so why should you get famous for doing both? fame used to be earned by being notable due to skill or originality. it sure isn't anymore. i'm sick of that. do a little work and be proud of what you do, that is, if you can actually do something. we've all got gifts and talents. perhaps if you can't make good music, you have talents elsewhere. but that's not the hip thing to think...
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