The first real installment in my new song podcast series: inspiration strikes, finally.
(This song is in its very early stages and will sound janky!)
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Author: jae
jae lethe (he/she/they) is a blogger, musician, artist, poet, web developer/designer, armchair philosophizer, teller of tales, and gadabout. Also, something he calls a "behavioral artist." (Not sure.) She has plans. BIG plans.
Among the things that he has done for a laugh are minor fractures, cuts, scrapes, and various scabs. Though she's quick to point out that they're no imbecile, we're fairly certain that he thinks the word means some kind of medieval pharmacist.
This is her latest home on teh internets - where jae stores their swear words, when they're not hurling them at the sun in vain.
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Downside, an upside
Finally, after three or four days of nearly agonizingly languishing meditation on the fate of my latest song, comes the breakthrough I’ve been lusting after: I had gotten up to go to bed, and the moment took me completely by surprise. And at first, I did not even know that it was the missing piece that I sought.
Rising from my chair and extinguishing one of my last cigarette butts in my desk ashtray, I found that I had a melody already in my head, complete with an accompaniment of washing, ethereal rhythm guitar. It was nothing more than background noise; the blips and bleeps that randomly orchestrate themselves into patterns of thought or waves of sound. The type that usually functions merely as a filter through which to perceive the void in front and behind you as the world, as reality, often taking on the arduous task of giving you a rhythm with which to shuffle your feet forward.
And then it struck me: I had a bit of an interesting thing going on… I wondered if I should take a moment to figure out the melody and the chords underneath, so as not to forget it when I awake, seven hours later and a completely newborn human being all over again.
As I considered how best to record this thing without having to actually turn on my digital multitrack recorder, it hit me once more, as if to carry the point home: what if it goes with the thumping, driving, slow groove I’ve already got? Yet again was I assaulted with more forceful, intuitive instruction from within: Turn the fucking recorder on, you idiot! Do not lose this! It is perfect!
I turned on the recorder, hastily gathered together a few effects pedals (after trying to figure out how best to save the current patches onboard the VS-880EX recorder for the drums, without losing the careful nuances I’d already fine-tuned), plugged in an electric guitar, and ran it through.
It fit. Perfectly. The rising melody, like a siren calling from a forgotten time; the cascading, echoed rhythm guitar burbling underneath like waves upon the ocean; the bass, thumping along like exhausted, yet somehow furiously driven oars hitting the water with a great, unified FLONGT.
[SHIFT]+[STORE]. Save Current? Y.Must leave, go to bed, reboot, so as not to ruin it with overthinking things. Tomorrow, I will begin again.
Poweroff/Restart? 0.
Thomphsss, sleep now.
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sick and tired
Doggy: sick.
Mommy: sick.
Daddy: tired.
So You Wanna Be a Drummer… Really?
(A Cynical Glimpse into What Challenges Await All the Would-be Drummers in the World)
By my friend, the exceptionally gifted Michael Christmas.
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Downside
Lately i’ve been working, taking as much care of Holly as I can humanly manage (and managing to piss her off once in a while, too – oops), trying, frankly desperately, to keep my head above water financially, and trying – my god, I’m trying – to manage my creative life. Primarily at the moment I’m working hard on a brand new song. This one’s heavy, with a low, funky “Those Shoes” kind of vibe. The working title is “Downside,” and lyrically, it’s about the hear/see/speak-no-evil attitude of rich people when dealing with those of us on the Other Side of town. The Battle of the Haves vs. the Have Nots. That could always change, as these things do, when the lyrics start getting downright sophomoric. Low bass, some common and twisted chord changes, and chaotic, mind-bending guitar, with a Soundgardenesque vocal melody. Probably been done before, but this one’s mine.
Over time, I plan on posting a sort of mini-log of how it’s going. If possible, i’d love to post a running mix as it develops; however, my creative time is severely limited, so this might take a longer time than I’d like. For anyone who might read this who’s a home-recording nut, this one’s for you. DIY, baby.
I had no idea: the famous Iggy Pop peanut butter incident was provoked by Dayton’s own Rev. Cool (from WYSO)!
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Baghdad, With Trenches
Iraqis Plan to Ring Baghdad With Trenches
So that’s what the future of democracy looks like! I can hear it now: “Thank you for bringing democracy to our formerly sovereign nation, Americans!”
No wonder the entire world hates the United States. No wonder at all.
I’ve just finished posting the latest tutorial: HTML Beginner’s Course pt 1. This tutorial covers basic HTML formatting and some common tags. Nothing intensive here, just a crash course in what it is and what it does, with a little bit of the fundamentals. Topics to be covered later include lists, images, links, tables, and CSS.
Get your feet wet now, we’ll be doing some fun diving soon enough! There’s even an RSS feed to the tutorials pages, so you can keep up with the latest tute’s.
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New page: Tutorials
Because I seem to be the only person in my local circle of friends who understands web code, I receive lots of requests from people to help them jank up their MySpace pages. In response, I’ve created the first tutorial: MySpace: the DIV element. This tutorial assumes you know a little bit about HTML and CSS going in. In future tutorials, I’ll cover basic HTML and CSS.
And i’ve just finished adding the comments functionality to pages (as opposed to blog posts), so if you have any questions or need help, I’ll do my best to clarify. This is a work in progress.
Did you know: If you’re really serious about getting your favorite greasy politician elected, you could
- invest hundreds of hours (unpaid in most cases) campaigning for them
- simply hack the Diebold machine taking the votes, which only requires a few minutes of your time.
or you could
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Ann Richards, R.I.P.
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Experience necessary
It’s the oldest catch-22 in history: Experience necessary. How do people with experience obtain that experience? Presumably, every human starts life as infants, with little or no experience within the field in which they will eventually earn their keep. So why is it that every interview always ends with a polite summation of my lack of experience?
It’s hard for me to articulate the fact that I can do absolutely anything thrown at me, other than by awkwardly blurting out “I can do absolutely anything thrown at me!” while a horrified interviewer looks on, aghast. But my lack of experience equates roughly to lack of proof.
Joseph Heller explained the Catch-22:
If you’re insane, then you can’t request to be reassigned from flight combat, because it would prove that you’re sane. If you request to be reassigned from flight combat, then you’re not insane, because only a sane, rational person would make such a request. Therefore, you can never leave.
Ergo, if you do not have experience, then you cannot gain experience. If you have experience, then you must have started with experience.
The thing is, I am experienced. But, because on previous projects I was the designer, the information architect, the developer, and the entire MIS department, all by myself, I therefore cannot prove that I can work as a specialist in one area, working from specs from another specialist in one of those other areas.
What I cannot deal with is the fact that I am stuck forever as a lackey at low-rent jobs that I hate with all of my passion because I am a lackey at low-rent jobs, even though I am 1000% smarter than 90% of the other people around me and am capable of doing so much more – but am relegated to mopping up other people’s messes for the rest of my fucking life.
When I pulled into the apartment parking lot after my miserable interview, Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day” came on.
You’re going to reap just what you sow.
I am overqualified, but underexperienced. I am, therefore, a failure.
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Experience necessary
It’s the oldest catch-22 in history: Experience necessary. How do people with experience obtain that experience? Presumably, every human starts life as infants, with little or no experience within the field in which they will eventually earn their keep. So why is it that every interview always ends with a polite summation of my lack of experience?
It’s hard for me to articulate the fact that I can do absolutely anything thrown at me, other than by awkwardly blurting out “I can do absolutely anything thrown at me!” while a horrified interviewer looks on, aghast. But my lack of experience equates roughly to lack of proof.
Joseph Heller explained the Catch-22:
If you’re insane, then you can’t request to be reassigned from flight combat, because it would prove that you’re sane. If you request to be reassigned from flight combat, then you’re not insane, because only a sane, rational person would make such a request. Therefore, you can never leave.
Ergo, if you do not have experience, then you cannot gain experience. If you have experience, then you must have started with experience.
The thing is, I am experienced. But, because on previous projects I was the designer, the information architect, the developer, and the entire MIS department, all by myself, I therefore cannot prove that I can work as a specialist in one area, working from specs from another specialist in one of those other areas.
What I cannot deal with is the fact that I am stuck forever as a lackey at low-rent jobs that I hate with all of my passion because I am a lackey at low-rent jobs, even though I am 1000% smarter than 90% of the other people around me and am capable of doing so much more – but am relegated to mopping up other people’s messes for the rest of my fucking life.
When I pulled into the apartment parking lot after my miserable interview, Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day” came on.
You’re going to reap just what you sow.
I am overqualified, but underexperienced. I am, therefore, a failure.
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Kirk & Spock get “Closer”
This is quite possibly the greatest thing the internet has come up with: Kirk and Spock: Closer (warning: completely NSFW). It’s a fan-made (T. Jonsey & Killa) slash-fiction remix/mashup of Star Trek: OS moving pictures, set to Nine Inch Nails‘ classic pants-creamin’ body-rocker “Closer”. It’s a music video with a silly, yet wholly erotic theme.
This is the culmination of all that is Great and Good about teh Interwebs! Finally, we can unplug our rigs and live wistfully happy, idyllic lives among nature now. It has happened. Utopia can start now k thx. The Interwebs has fulfilled its function. 42 my ass.
Project Censored has just released their annual Top 25 Censored News Stories. They are:
- Future of Internet Debate Ignored by Media
- Halliburton Charged with Selling Nuclear Technologies to Iran
- Oceans of the World in Extreme Danger
- Hunger and Homelessness Increasing in the US
- High-Tech Genocide in Congo
- Federal Whistleblower Protection in Jeopardy
- US Operatives Torture Detainees to Death in Afghanistan and Iraq
- Pentagon Exempt from Freedom of Information Act
- The World Bank Funds Israel-Palestine Wall
- Expanded Air War in Iraq Kills More Civilians
- Dangers of Genetically Modified Food Confirmed
- Pentagon Plans to Build New Landmines
- New Evidence Establishes Dangers of Roundup
- Homeland Security Contracts KBR to Build Detention Centers in the US
- Chemical Industry is EPA’s Primary Research Partner
- Ecuador and Mexico Defy US on International Criminal Court
- Iraq Invasion Promotes OPEC Agenda
- Physicist Challenges Official 9-11 Story
- Destruction of Rainforests Worst Ever
- Bottled Water: A Global Environmental Problem
- Gold Mining Threatens Ancient Andean Glaciers
- $Billions in Homeland Security Spending Undisclosed
- US Oil Targets Kyoto in Europe
- Cheney’s Halliburton Stock Rose Over 3000 Percent Last Year
- US Military in Paraguay Threatens Region
I’m thinking about dead friends:
Stacey Hurt (class of ’89) hung herself a year or two after she graduated. I sat by her in Study Hall. We had a great time. There are very sweet things about her that i will never, ever forget. I still have a notebook she wrote on somewhere. Nothing but fond memories. I’ll never forget how i felt a little emptier when she graduated early. That last goodbye was so weak, yet it lasted forever.
I once introduced her to Kevin Lay (90). That scene in my head still creeps me out. There was actually some talk that he just as likely could have swerved to HIT a dog. Either way sounds equally true, if you knew Kevin! That was a black, black day that scarred many of us in his class for life. Even though my politics have changed dramatically since high school, i always had great respect for him. He was one of The Good Ones (if a little overly-mischeivous)! I still use his classic put-down: “turn around and put your head down!”
Mike Mettler (91) will also always lay claim to a sore spot on my heart. He hung himself several years ago at his mother’s house. He was so much fun, so much fun. We invented kooky names and dances and had a great time. The great music we shared, angry and beautiful, always reminds me of him. Dishdogs 4 life. Mojo.
Jimmy Harris (89) was on my bus route. He could be hell sometimes, but i’ll never ever forget the time i was walking out of the restroom and he was walking in, and he said something like, “Hey, Jarratt, what’s up?” – that floored me. I was a freshman and about as uncool as a person could get. I had no idea that he knew my name. Thanks, Jimmy. That meant something, man. Set fire to himself, allegedly while tripping balls.
Bill White (89) …what can i say? He was a cocky bastard who i hated, and a devious angel who i jealously adored. I got to see a real good side of him, though. He was a lot humbler than he usually let on, especially as he got older and gentler. He got through a whole lot of hell in his life. A master musician, on both guitar and drums; my favorite band to play in was any with him in it, even if i was in a Bill-hating phase. The best, though, was with him and Jeremy & Tony Dawson. I always felt *tremendously* honored that he took drums and gave his blessing to my sorry worthless ass to play the guitar (we were way past the bullshit by then). He shot himself just a few years ago, and nobody really understands that but him. I fully regret not being able to catch him before he finally fell.
There are too many others. None are truly gone from us until we have forgotten them at last. Never forget.
I guess i’d say that Mike and Bill hurt the most. It hurts a lot, even to this terrible moment.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
And anguish, somehow, to deep, breathless joy.
Spill a little for my homies, thump thump.
Whoa. I just went to a job interview (cross your fingers for me, or pray to whatever sinful, heathen idols you worship), and was interviewed by Grog from the Oxymorons!! (He also runs Mutant Renegade Records and the excellent zine The Chickenfish Speaks)
Okay, for those of ya outside of Dayton, the Oxymorons were this great post-punk band in the late 80s-early 90s. After they split up, their singer fell off of a balcony and died :( so they are sadly no more. But he’s still really active in music. I still have their tape Bash On Regardless in storage – i have to dig that up and see if it still plays; it was one of my favorites way back in the early 90s!
The interview, i felt, went great, and we spent most of the time talking about music, although i also learned a lot about the company. I am really really hoping i land this one. It’s right up my alley in so many ways!
Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin killed by stingray | The Australian
I always thought this poor guy took things a little too far. Maybe he was just crazy or had a death wish. R.I.P. Steve Irwin :(
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Each life a letter
An old poem, dug up by its current caretaker, an old friend and the brother of an old best gal-pal i hung around a lot when i was at my most poetic. I wrote this one in the early nineties.
I dedicate this to you. Yes, you.
each life a letter,
under an indigo envelope;
greeting, answering, asking, saluting
each other
we can not be more than what we are:
words,
on a cosmic paper,
yet every word a world of meaning;
great varieties of influences
translated by the Great Receiver;
you, me, someone else, or… god?
every printed character
as deep
as the black ocean at midnightto you, my friend,
i write the longest letter
of my soul:
love.