P. Miles Bryson

2005-03-16T07:05:00.000-08:00

... good news from UCDavis, California (outside Sacramento)...

Hi! We are writing to let you know that your release, P. Miles Bryson "MEGALOMANIC DECORATOR'S QUARTERLY" was #1 at KDVS this week (3/15/05).

2005-03-10T00:25:00.000-08:00

... university of Boulder, CO. radio wants to interview me on Monday night... more on this later... if it's not too boring...

...

it is cool that MDQ is getting lots of airplay... thanks philo for sending out all the promos... :)

2005-03-06T03:25:00.000-08:00

from philo's BLOG:
P. Miles is beginning to chart on some stations. CHUO #26, CFUV #26, CITR #30, WVUM medium #23 (note on site "This cd is so WVUM, enjoy!!!"). i guess the Canadians really like this stuff.

...

ironic... I'm becoming someone even as I'm forgetting myself... Existence sure is a paradoxical thingie...

I could feel the memories and the moments melting away from me like morning dew

2005-03-06T02:31:00.000-08:00

...where do I begin? I could feel the memories and the moments melting away from me like morning dew... this was to be a sort of silent morning, perhaps... ending with nothing to be thankful or afraid about because, if it continued, I'd remember almost nothing... except I did retain some of the emotive elements that continued to plague me and lead me to believe that there was something more in my life... i just couldn't remember what... the most frightening thing is that it was happening to me as I was aware it was happening... I was aware I was losing everything... alzheimers? ...low blood sugar? ... what WAS it exactly? ...was I being cursed? BLESSED? it didn't feel like a blessing at first... then, with a little skewed thinking and pondering, it BECAME a blessing... I prayed for the ability to not completely forget everything... to still be able to retain enough to function in the moment as well as realize that there were things I still needed to accomplish... I was at work and I needed to still get monthend processing done... WHY? ... I only knew that it was MY JOB... it was expected of me so I had to do it...
...
ultimately I didn't know why it happened... It seems my prayer was answered and there was just enough memory in the moment to carry me forward to the next... if I exercised faith, continued to work in that moment, stay active... I'd continue movement and the bubble of light I seemed to be walking in would also continue to move... and as I continued in that light of momentary knowledge, it would seemingly, of it's own accord link to the next vital bits of knowledge that I needed to continue working... from this point I was receving EVERYTHING on a need to know basis ... there were a few elements of ME left to me... I still knew my name... still knew of my family, although the phone number home eluded me in some moments...
...
at first I was tempted to call home in the moments that I could still actively feel things slipping away from me... I didn't however, in case I was just imagining it all... maybe I WAS... maybe my whole life was just an illusion... something I'd conjured up in that moment to tell me that there was purpose in continuing... a reason to go on... plus, i feared that the ACT of calling home would somehow ultimately betray me by making it a self-fulfilling prophecy... Ultimately, after I'd almost finished all my work, I did call home... and, sure enough, once I started voicing all my fears to Michelle, my wife, things began to seem even more real, (or perhaps LESS real...) and simultaneously, as if they had finally left me for good... at least in my specific memories... I did still retain the flavor of something important in my life... some reason for continued existence... but new fears welled up.. I could recall that I knew of others who'd lead "normal" existences until one day waking up and not remembering... such people were generally much older than myself and the particular ones I was thinking of now had both died of "old age" or some complications due to "old age" ... like MEMORY LOSS... maybe there was no more reason for them to hang on... maybe that's why they ultimately left for greener pastures... or whiter ones, GOLDER ones, if the scriptures are true...

..

so what about now? well, it seems Miles is still here... I awoke this Sunday morning and felt a little bit clearer... a little bit more centered in the NOW without being completely obilterated in the now ... I guess if I'm completely honest, I didn't completely lose things... I always retained a sense of there being something worth remembering and that I couldn't remember what it was at present... I guess the fear was that I ultimately wouldn't remember even that there was something worth remembering and that I'd be a complete zombie in the moment, not knowing or caring that I might or might not be around in the next moment... and perhaps for people who do not believe in an afterlife, LIFE is like that... or for people who do not retain an active memory of their PREVIOUS life or lives, life becomes as a dream... you awaken to a new dream and the old one disappears... perhaps someone or something helps you to remember your old life... lives... but without that prompting, you have no reason to believe that it might prompt you of it's own accord... so you take control like Kurt Cobain or Hunter S. Thompson and blast your noggin across the parking lot... that final desperate act of control... something YOU could decide to do... the FINAL decision YOU made... YOU decided... nobody else... or was that an illusion too? Had somebody, in point of fact, WHISPERED to you to do it? Was there someone WHISPERING to you even now? without your consent in this moment? perhaps without your EVER having completely consented to it? ... or was that the FINAL lie... Perhaps you DID decide originally to do this... to have the possibility that THIS might happen... FAITH... FAITH in one greater than yourself... ONE WHO COULD SEE... ONE WHO COULD SEE... one who could SEE where you could not... could not YET... THAT was my final conclusion... THAT was why it might have been a blessing...

Someone else was doing the seeing for me... I only felt it more keenly in those moments when I didn't think I could completely see MYSELF... I had relinquished some part of myself... sacrificed it upon some alter in order to allow someone to GUIDE me... I hoped that that someone was more benevolent than my fears and uncertainties... I feared that Michelle would arrive at work with some kind of meds and a straight jacket... ferry me off to the Looney bin... admit one to psycho ward... no foreseeable return... that's it.. you're gone... nurse Wratchet... nurse RatSHIT? here I come...

2005-02-04T04:28:00.000-08:00

.. today i read these words "Verily, verily, I say unto you, wo be unto him that lieth to deceive because he supposeth that another lieth to deceive, for such are not exempt from the justice of God. " ..and i had to recall my words from yesterday "and perhaps we're all likeable and reprehensible.." .. perhaps that's an indictment on what kind of character I am.. or am becoming.. I'm sure I'm more reprehensible than some.. maybe many.. am I likeable? .. ok, what about when you start to get to really know me..(.. if anyone really does..) am I likeable then? .. but just because I'm that way doesn't mean that everybody is that way.. does it? ..

2005-02-04T02:53:00.000-08:00

..just saw Jim Jarmusch's "Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai".. all I can say is that the man sure does know how to tell a great story.. aren't really great stories supposed to transcend all things like race, religion, culture/sub-culture, and speak in some universal language that all can understand..? i think this one really did.. perhaps it spoke to me in the smaller details as well.. i read "Hagakure" when I was a teenager and into martial arts.. and something about all the big mafia cheeses watching only cartoons also said something to me.. "I can turn diamonds into jelly beans, but do you think I'm happy? Do you think I'm satisfied..?" classic.. really great stuff.. and the little people, the seemingly insignificant and ordinary people were, of course, the extraordinary people.. the ice cream vendor who's supposedly Ghost Dog's best friend.. but he speaks no english, only french, and Ghost Dog speaks no french.. but they have these conversations.. understand each other by some kind of osmosis between the words.. and the man building the boat on the roof.. and Ghost Dog himself, of course, the walking paradox, invisible yet somehow known by everybody.. the samurai ready to die for a cartoonish master who he serves, loyal to the death.. and yet it's not about the master himself but about the way.. the service itself.. the journey which transcends all.. Felix the cat with the amazing briefcase that turns into a canoe or anything else he likes.. the little guy.. amazing.. and the little black girl who reads all the books.. fantastic..

.. and I've always liked Forest Whitaker.. always thought there's just something about him.. i'm not sure what.. .. as a director.. ehhh... so so.. ho-hum... but as an actor, really something..

2005-02-03T02:08:00.000-08:00

..watching loads and loads of movies these days.. nights.. ..Takashi Miike's "Ichi the Killer" beautifully sensational but perhaps a little overly-contrived over-the-top gore and depravity .. as seems to be his style.. vis-a-vis "Fudô" also over-the-top depravity.. elementary school kids and dewey-doe-eyed girls with automatic weapons.. ok.. maybe.. but I mean, come-on! -- a hermaphrodite shooting killer darts from her female genitalia?!!.. though Jodorowsky admitted in an interview that he was impressed by it.. but we know how much he loves freak shows.. ;) "Alien vs. Predator".. (entertaining but extremely predictable.. no surprise there..) Jodorowsky's "Fando and Lis" .. Takeshi Kitano's "Hana Bi" (Fireworks) .. (surprisingly wonderful..) and others.. movies movies.. more movies.. ......"The Cube".. "Vera Drake" "Volcano High".. (silly, probably intentionally.. if not then trying way to hard to be some kind of hip..?) .. movies movies movies.. many more less memorable.. ..... also going through booktapes, as usual..

..stories.. stories, stories and more stories.. keep the story going.. time fillers.. is that what I'm doing..? marking time..? grist for the mill.. fodder for the cannon.. whatever..

..the most recent "Sideways" with Paul Giamatti as Miles.. also a novel, "A Bend in the Road" by Nicholas Sparks.. a Miles character in that one too.. Giamatti's Miles: a simultaneously likeable and reprehensible character.. and perhaps we're all likeable and reprehensible.. and I am, more than some, perhaps not quite as much as the Miles in the movie.. or at least not as much as his friend.. i hope..

2005-01-28T03:22:00.000-08:00

..this time .. one time for time the time being that said that registered markedly ongoing in-and-outflux my reason for writing, for communicating would be... ... ... what?.. my reason for living and breathing art and non-art would be... ... ... what? ..

..

..

twitching awake to synthesizer bees..

..

the thumping of change in air pressure.. like someone approaching down the hall.. a reminder that someone could always appear where there was no one..

..

they liked to hit things.. with their car..
.. they were swerverts.. not perverts..
..
..
..

2005-01-15T06:07:00.000-08:00

..obsessions with the weather.. phases of the moon.. 10-day weather forecasts.. or maybe just the various freeware programs that put this type of information on the desktop..
..
.. then again maybe it's just the most recent version of my one major obsession .. just variations on a theme: collect collect collect!
...always something to collect...

2005-01-14T02:48:00.000-08:00

..and my newspaper finds me with blackened hands.. and time tickles onward without regret..

2005-01-14T02:38:00.000-08:00

..the disembodied head of Richard Nixon which floats through the mall.. "I am not a crook... I am not a crook.." ..

....I mean, where is the love? where..?

2005-01-14T02:20:00.000-08:00

..in the cold it might be my otherness which lays claim to my presence.. the footsteps that brought me toward.. or seemed to.. the restlessness.. the scattered paradoxes that gather to all commingle inside this dancing exoskeleton.. i might be waiting for some lightning bolt of truth to blast me into oblivion..

2004-12-28T15:09:00.001-08:00

..unless, of course, i can't sleep.. anymore..

.."life" is just the thing you supposedly do when the insomnia just won't let up..

..no one can be as dull as me..

..insufferably wordy dullness..

..or not..

2004-12-28T06:54:00.000-08:00

spending the early morning hours in the emergency room as my father in-law woke up unable to take a deep enough breath.. the miracle of modern medecine was only able to conclude, "we're not really sure why.. looks a little like asthma, buUUtt..."
..
these sedentary holidayze.. watch cable TV, light the fire, eat, sleep, watch cable TV, eat, sleep, eat, sleep, watch cable TV.. sleep, light the fire..

2004-12-27T08:03:00.000-08:00

inside my subconscious there lurks a mean inner child.. or so my lucid dreams would seem to indicate.. they keep forcing me to go back to highschool.. supposedly to complete classes i never completed.. computer errors.. i actually graduated in 3 years.. but you know how the computer never lies, so i go back to C.D.O. (my old highschool).. but the details of these ever-recurring dreams never seem to be about classes or which classes.. they're always about bullies, mean kids who might have teased me, and my revenge..

...

..did you know i'm the one who killed Toejoe Rodriguez? (there was actually nobody by that name at my highschool.. these people are always imaginary.. and only one guy ever briefly teased me as a freshman.. and his name wasn't Toejoe..) anyhow, I'll confess now that when they found mean ole knife-wielding, gang-banging Toejoe, bashed and bloodied, head submerged in a backed-up toilet, shortly after second period, nobody suspected me because I'd gone home and called in sick.. my alibi..

..i returned to highschool .. as i'm always doing.. remiss in some class or classes.. but i'm a 40 year old, mean old man, but of course i look so very young (ha ha..).. but they just won't leave me alone.. so i have to develop this reputation that i won't take crap from anyone.. i'm the insane-in-the-membrane guy.. if you mess with me your troubles will never never end.. you may be a jock, tougher than me, much more popular than me, beloved by all even.. doesn't matter.. i can stuff your head in a locker when you least suspect it.. crack a metal chair over your head and put you in the hospital.. and so, one or two of these incidents and voila! no more teasers.. except Toejoe, who was himself always itching for a fight and a challenge.. and so he won't be scared off because he's just as crazy as i'm pretending to be.. but his problem is he's as stupid as a post as well as crazy.. approaches me and says it's just a matter of time before he beats the crap outta me.. just for the fun of it.. maybe he'll even poke me a couple times with his switchblade.. the idiot drops this challenge on my doorstep and leaves it at that.. the man actually has some kind of warped sense of fairness and honor and won't attack me from behind or anything like that.. walks around, over-confident and sure in his "badness".. plans on just walking up to me in the lunchroom someday or in the hall in front of everyone and beating me senseless.. too bad for Toejoe I don't play fair.. and so he never sees me coming as I ambush him, back turned, in the bathroom.. just me and him.. first period bell has just rung and there's nobody about but us.. he might have stood a slightly better chance had I not been armed with a filed-down baseball bat hidden in my jacket.. but, hitting him fast from behind, smashing him into the mirror, and then tenderizing him with the bat until his head is flopping and more like a beanbag chair than a head.. the dunking in the toilet was really just cosmetic more than anything else.. more than likely he was already dead or in a coma after the beating..

...

2004-12-25T10:59:00.000-08:00

one more El Paso ixmas daze.. merry squixmas tu vu and meEms.. the stranger and stranger the dreams become as the dosidoses of benadryl are upped and downed.. floating in a coughing and hacking daydreamers haze most daze and knights and off to gnappyland where I dreamMt myself to new silly places.. strange occurences and close encounters with aliens who leave their mark upon the deserts of the southwest U.S. in the form of vast new civilizations, grandiose edifaces in the form of huge Tolkien-like dark towers, vast Grand Canyon chasms traversed by spindley and swaying bridges, hive-like pods filled with bagillions of insect visitors with greater intelligence and compassion than our own human versions, somehow ominous in their silent pacifism, unseen but ever felt nearby.. strange whirling paloverde trees with nets and baskets to catch who-knows-what.. whistling and whirring in the windless air, self-powered, self-propelled in their spiraling alien geometries..

...

..it's probably a good thing that i've never sampled peyote or LSD, crystal, crack, H, alcohol, etc... my own brain chemistry seems to be way beyond more than enough..

2004-12-21T22:49:00.000-08:00

Listening to Miles Davis' "Complete Bitches Brew Sessions" .. really amazing and spooky stuff.. of course I was half asleep while listening and maybe that had something to do with how I perceived the floating, meandering quality of the music.. still.. the man was truly a genius..

2004-12-18T07:20:00.000-08:00

after long agonizing deliberation i just dropped by to say i have nothing to say..

2004-12-17T03:30:00.000-08:00

...am I sorry or not...? is it my fault or not...? it's not the same work climate as it was those few years ago when I seemed to be everyone's scapegoat and everyone's whipping boy... I am medicated now and more confident, perceived as more stable and reliable, I think, I hope, etc. etc. ... nevertheless, the boss seems upset with me more often these days... have I crossed some kind of line, or is he possibly having problems in his private life and over-reacting to some of my idiosyncrasies...? mostly he's a very reasonable and affable person, but on the odd occasion when he gets a bug up his butt about something, there is no talking to him... will it all translate to my ultimately getting the boot?

2004-12-13T07:24:00.000-08:00

dreams dreams dreams... but what does they all means...
...wandering a large stream somewhere in eastern arizona among strange monolithic columns of dirt and and sandstone with a large class of children, observing nature as it were... we come upon a deeper section in the stream to find it absolutely stuffed full of rainbow trout the size of (and bright red color of) spawning salmon... huge fish somewhere around 3 to 4 feet long... not hundreds but thousands of these things, so many in fact that the water is absolutely boiling with all of them... and suddenly a game warden, a woman, shows up to field questions about these large red trout... seems they're protected... some kind of completely unique species that only lives in this very pool alone... no other river or lake anywhere in the world but this one... the entire species in our view... protected from us humans but not protected from themselves... vastly overpopulating this tiny, limited stream and with nowhere to escape to, neither up nor down stream as these fish are all too huge and would not be able to even find enough water in any other portion of the stream to stay submerged in... and so they're gradually dying... nevertheless they're still protected... "make sure you buy some fish eggs at our gift shop," the game warden calls after us... these fish eggs for sale were supposedly eggs of these red trout... but, of course, they looked exactly like salmon eggs, big and neon pink, just like you might buy in the bait shop..

2004-12-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

it hasn't been all that long since i sat waiting for inspiration to hit me and wound up hitting myself... merrie chrissmiss

2004-11-30T02:02:00.000-08:00

here comes your 15 minutes of fame ....

2004-11-30T01:30:00.000-08:00

what's the point? .. where's the point? .. an unflagging silence.. the response of empty air.. are they bored? .. are they baffled? .. are they listening at all?.. and what do I expect? .. applause? ..

2004-11-24T02:13:00.000-08:00

christmas tassels and warm cyanide.. sonic chewtoys for much maligned mesomorphs.. in piercing conundrums of thought.. this frozen catalepsys.. shouting from lonely vacancies.. the nakedness which scratches and crawls its way through alternating caves of ice and ardour.. my contradictions.. ever building palladian sandcastles upon hopeless industrial skies..

2004-11-24T01:14:00.000-08:00

why am I here..? the attempt at forgetting.. and each new oblivion.. inconsequential.. ineffective..

2004-11-22T05:16:00.000-08:00

...what kind of slimy lucid dreamer am i... these things are really not much different than daydreams... and so, perhaps there is really no excuse for me.. .. and yet the unavoidable urge to complete the storyline: myself as rogue hero, of course.. a sort of Jack Kennedy in an ad lib "Dangerous Liaisons" scenario.. ..the natural man of the world who, naturally, knows no shame.. am I confessing or am I bragging..? (probably way too much of the latter..) "Good night, Mrs. Bouvier, wherever you are..." ..."Good night, Mrs. Hillary Rodham-Conscience, wherever you are..." .. oh what a tangled web we surf...

---

..but, speaking of lucid dreams, there was one the night before last, in which i found myself taking a class on film or some such creative ho-hum or other.. in any event we found our royal selves in this class with 300 some-odd other aspiring Francis Ford-Coppolas, but for some inexplicable reason the assignment was to sing a duet with a partner to some little trivial ditty with piano accompaniment.. and then who should shuffle in but Tom Waits..? ..Tom Waits.. ..he was an anonymous guest at first, only to be brazenly unveiled by myself, audaciously asking, "might we persuade you to sing with us in our little duet -- errr, trio? it would be such a HUGE honor.." etc. etc. (...just where exactly would I know Tom Waits from...? .. my megalomania knows no bounds..) probably uncharacteristically, Tom agrees.. and we quickly discover that it's a huge mistake to have him sing along with us... so, he winds up singing solo for the class, not once, twice, but probably some 2 dozen times! .. it's like the class-room has become a studio and suddenly Tom is doing take after take trying to get this song just right .. he sings it once, tenderly.. then expressively.. then slowly and searchingly .. leaves the room for about 30 seconds.. returns, pacing and angry.. tries singing it almost yelling and enraged.. an octave higher, menacing..

..and so, though it's just a dream, I get this voyeuristic sneak-peek into Tom's creative process... well, his creative process as I imagine it might be..

2004-11-20T07:40:00.000-08:00

this everpresent urge to write meaningless things such as this.. leaving our thumbprints on the cosmos.. but who are the detectives who will retrieve them?

2004-11-20T07:18:00.000-08:00

all these scars on my body from the removal of moles.. stitches and Frankensteinian zigzags of flesh.. before I'm 50 I'm going to look like a Yukio Mishima story..

2004-11-20T01:06:00.000-08:00

Little Cohen, my almost 8 year old son, running in pajamas and stocking feet around the airport waiting area as we watch expectantly for my wife, Michelle, to return from a business trip... this little boy of mine, a seemingly endless supply of energy... running running running in circles, sliding on the smooth waxed floor, running and sliding for the sheer joy of it.. the banality and beauty of these moments that I will cling to at some later date... this is my life..

2004-11-18T02:20:00.000-08:00

more perambulations, somnambulations, flim-flamulations.. who am i to stop the great burning intuition within.. cyclical, recurrent, gyrational, masturbational..

off in the nighthorizons, purple grandpontification.. whose seemingly endless prose more or less.. and just in time for the holindaise,.. mere mortals should wish otherwise, in the face of radiant, florescent nuance, indecipherable gooblediegunk..

such a pain as these fraudulent trumpetlips have never witnessed.. indeed, near mercy but for the rampant killing of innocence .. innocents..

2004-11-18T01:35:00.000-08:00

sometimes i feel like Patrick Star going to work: "...you know, it's not as easy as it looks... sometimes i have to scratch my butt because it really really itches.."

what is it that you do? i work with computers.. i'm the guy who flips the "on" switch.. "on" button.. "on" lever..

2004-11-18T00:05:00.000-08:00

..a dream of tarantulas caught in a rainstorm, washed down a hillside and I try to save them, or at least one for my son who wants one as a pet.. and so, wading through the deluge, i find myself sodden and crawling with not only tarantulas, but also 2 or 3 huge cat-sized black rats, and one which is actually stuffed into my mouth, which then in fact turns out to be a cat's tail when I pull it out.. the tarantulas don't spook me a bit, as the variety that live here in our upper sonoran desert are generally quite docile by disposition and can be handled without a lot of concern.. but the rats! .. ech! ..gnawing on my fingers even as I attempt to hurl them away in disgust..

2004-11-15T09:39:00.000-08:00

aesthetically what are my guilty pleasures? .. i don't know if it's really accurate to say I feel guilty about listening to anything.. I don't.. it's more that I ought to feel guilty.. ok, so what should I feel guilty about listening to? techno, drum and bass, house, disco? 80s pop kitsch? any kind of pop-dancemusic kitsch? something with a "beat"..? the realty as I see it is that, though many of these are not very aesthetically satisfying, they often have great technical merit, accomplished production, mixing, etc. but, of course, that's not ultimately why i listen.. there has to be some indefinable quality to the music.. or maybe something indefinable that I bring as a listener.. in my experience it's almost impossible to differentiate between these two..
----
so, lately i've been listening to a lot of stuff from the free mp3 labels found on archive.org. i've really enjoyed a number of things on Webbed Hand Records .. most particularly Saluki Regicide .. also another label, Thinner * .. but some of them have connections to genesungswerk, so that connection to me may be suspect.. :)
in any event I've always loved listening to various things and was bummed out for some time when Anomalous Records (my all-time favorite record label to purchase from) decided to phase out... dust to dust... ashes to ashes.. no record label or distributor has really been able to take the place of Anomalous for me..

2004-11-15T07:33:00.000-08:00

dreams of people from my past.. people perhaps best forgotten.. highschool days.. best forgotten.. i keep having recurring dreams (..not day dreams .. the night time variety) of going back with the confidence and "maturity" i have now.. (ha ha..) those were not my glory days.. even early college, not my glory days.. i don't think i really had any glory days..

2004-11-14T05:37:00.000-08:00

OK, phil0, th15 1S @ll J00r F4ulT.. n0w LooK wH4+ Y0u'V3 d0NE..

2004-11-13T07:47:00.000-08:00

the dull ache from below.. the tug of hell.. kiss the mirror.. perhaps i can live vicariously through my work instead of my real life.. but i'm not working much, therefore i'm not living much..

---

psychic birds in the war of winter.. come home to spring.. come home..

---

someone named yasser died.. let's all ululate..

2004-11-13T04:39:00.000-08:00

somnambulating my way through life

2004-11-12T02:26:00.000-08:00

the inexplicable tastes of children.. my son, who will sometimes refuse various casaroles and salads my wife prepares, but who has decided he likes sushi.. spicy crab, octopus... there was a time when he was very little, not even a year old yet, when he loved tum-tums (indian snacks, quite spicy) and as I would sit driving home, eating them, he would cry if I didn't continually stuff them into his mouth as well.

2004-11-10T02:33:00.000-08:00

the recurrent compulsion to collect things, even when not actively for a specific project.. always the endless mp3s, but also movies and jpegs... you just never know when you might need an extra jpeg for something.. but it's really mostly about the collecting itself.. i have so SO many mp3s that i'd probably never be able to listen to all of them even if i wanted to..

2004-11-08T09:21:00.000-08:00

the usual insomnia. ...a vampire that can't sleep during the day...

I'm on the verge of finishing a project that plunders heavily from various orchestral/choral pieces but also very VERY much from Mormon Children's Songs. The problem is that i'm doing this project strictly for idealistic-philosophical reasons of my own and I have my doubts that it is even something that any record label would want (or dare to take... same thing almost...) Who would I offer it to? Even though it's plundered (i.e. pushing the copyright envelope) it's still seems to me to be very much a "mormon" work. So would anybody outside of mormonism even be able to find much of interest in it? Maybe... but is there a market for it at all? I doubt any LDS record labels would touch it first and mostly because of the copyright thing and second because it would still just probably be too weird or off-the-beaten-track to fit into any specific recognizable genre that they're promoting. So what do I DO with this thing when I'm done with it? Give it away? The problem with giving things away is that it instantly devalues them in most people's eyes. For example, mp3-online record labels offering free downloads (like autoplate .. archive.org or the ever-fantastic UBU web) of complete works... Does anyone really take these labels seriously? Don't get me wrong. Some of these labels are offering some really superb stuff and promote some really talented artists. But still you have to wonder if nobody has to shell out anything except web-space rent... is there any incentive for such a label to really promote the works? -- would many radio programs even consider such for airplay... well, maybe if you sent them a CDR copy of the available online project, but nobody... and I mean NObody wants to get mp3's via email. So what does that say about the "value" of mp3-online releases? If you value your work you'll send them a CDR copy to review (and sell at slash-and-burn prices after they're done listening.) If they value your work, they'll offer to release it as a physical copy, preferably a real professionally pressed CD (not just a CDR).

2004-11-08T05:59:00.000-08:00

there is no redemption to be found in these boring, meandering, never-ending confessionals.

2004-11-08T04:43:00.000-08:00

the endless struggle with computers... always something something SOMETHING not working... the essence of a bottomless pit...

2004-11-08T01:51:00.000-08:00

I still lucid dream. It used to be that I thought it reflected some measure of confidence at the core of my psyche, maybe that I felt on a subconscious level that I was in control of my life. Now, it seems almost like the opposite. It's because my life is out of control that I feel I have to control things more on other levels where I still can. I'm not sure I can really explain this paradox very well. Lucid dreaming used to be about flying in my dreams whenever I wanted, not being afraid of monsters, etc. Now it's that I'm an author or a director and whatever makes the STORYline most compelling is what I dream. Which, in a sense, means it's not REALLY a dream then... It's me writing a story on the subconscious level... me doing all the controlling where I can... an indicator that things are out of control in other areas of my life where I seem unable to control them.

2004-11-06T06:11:00.000-08:00

in the arithmetic of appetite, anything times zero is still zero.. but nothing hurts bad enough to make me stop.. what kind of person am I? LDS? Later-Day Sociopath? conjuring up a remorseless remorse ..

2004-11-06T03:59:00.000-08:00

in the timeless fluorescent night even the day is night here .. the hope that if i write something then i might feel something ..

2004-11-06T01:54:00.000-08:00

politics... voting... (or lack thereof...) i guess part of me really does want to care and I'm certainly interested (though simultaneously depressed) at reading other people's opinions. maybe it's only interest in the passion that others inject into something which has pretty much eluded me for my whole life. i guess i'm just not really a very political person... or maybe i'm just way too jaded and cynical... or i'm playing "hard to get" ... no candidate has ever been good enough for saintly ole Miles... they could never get up there and share the pedestal with me... but i'll keel over soon enough... then me'n Howard'n Bill are all going to hell in a handjob... errr uh, handbasket... cherchez la femme er sumthin'
the idea of write-in candidates appeals to me. if i truly "voted my conscience," who would i vote for? probably someone either fictitious or somebody real but without the slightest intention of running because they probably have way too much personal integrity and honesty to rise above their principals and run for public office like the rest of the algaed scum-suckin' oil-slickers who do... cherchez le fric er sumthin'

2004-11-05T03:27:00.000-08:00

Just finished watching Josef von Báky's "Münchhausen." Much more interesting than even Terry Gilliam's version. Quite the bizarre spectacle with an ever-present national socialist undercurrent (though not quite as obvious as I thought it would be...) as Josef Goebbels, Reichsminister of propaganda and also chief of the German UFA-studios, ordered this film to be made for the 25th anniversary of the UFA in 1943. This film seemed to me a little like a Peter Greenaway film. Other things of note: a couple actresses, Käthe Haack looks a little like Milla Jovovich though she was dying about the time Milla was born... and then there's the actress who played the czarina... (whose real name was Brigitte Horney. ... and with a name like that... I was thinking maybe Brigitte missed her true calling and should have been starring in a different kind of film with other luminaries like Nimfeh Mänioch, Peter Schwanz and Tschenna Tschämesan ... nevertheless, it's not so unlikely that, like so many others, perhaps she made her start as a showgirl and uh... ahem, ...bumsed hehr Vay to schtAardom...? but i digress...) One lingering question of utmost import does yet remain: Is the Tokay from Hungary really inferior to the Tokay from Vienna? I have my doubts, but maybe we'll just never know... pass me a pouch-apple, Horst.

2004-11-04T01:28:00.000-08:00

as though anyone would want to read about me...

2004-11-04T01:02:00.000-08:00

this might just be the biggest waste of time i have yet to indulge in. music always beckons, calls... and sin is always at the door as Satan desires to "sift me as wheat" ...

the impetus of negative energy and the desire to pour out page after page of soul-searching candor and other pointless drivel. and then to go to the forums (radio-mute mostly) and waste some more bandwidth of my life away... but then what IS my life but a slow wasting away? this seemingly endless self-destruction in slow motion...