Stupid.

Contrary to what I've said in the past, I'm not stupid. For the most part that's a bit of an act; keep expectations low, avoid disappointing people. But people who know me keep telling me I'm smarter than I think.

Stop with the false appraisals already

Of course I respectfully disagree. Not only am I not as smart as I think I am; nor am I as smart as they think.

But there's a middle ground there. You don't have to be a genius to be merely smart, and you don't have to be stupid to discount claims that you're a genius.

If you're among those who think I'm an idiot (surely more numerous), you can skip this if you want. Odds are you aren't even reading this anyway.

Despite (or perhaps because of) my not being stupid, I'm a big advocate of simplicity.

Arkham's Razor. Get it?

Smart people have it rough; If you're smart, you know this already. Not only are you distracted from the big picture by the details, but you're distracted from the details by the big picture. You can see what's going to happen before it does roughly 50% of the time; the other 50% of the time you don't know what happened because you were busy formulating theories based on information that's about 6 hours out of date.

You also spend a lot of time defending your ideas in the face of other smart people who disagree with you. If you're lucky, you engage in meaningful debate with those people; if you're distracted by either big or little pictures, you dismiss them as ignorant and/or stupid.

This is not to discount the disagreements you have with actual stupid/ignorant people. They're probably just less common than you think. Even smart people have a hard time articulating from time to time, especially when they're really passionate about something.

Not a word. Except R.I.P.

In a nutshell, "stupid" might be one of those words we need to retire if we can't refrain from applying it to people. Can't speak for everybody, but I'm trying to save it for ideas and behavior, rather than the people behind those ideas and behavior. It ain't perfect, but it's less dehumanizing.

That's all. It's something that's been on my mind for some years now. I hate catching myself calling someone "stupid" when all I mean is "wrong." And for all I know, even that might be a harsh or erroneous appraisal of the situation.

After all, it's just opinions. As my brother put it, "OF COURSE I think I'm right. Isn't that what an opinion is all about?"

Thanks to FFantasygrl and all the other Photobucket-ers for the garnish.

Long-Promised, Never Delivered.

Like the major political parties in this country, I have made and broken promises. Remember the first "Red Book"? For those too young to remember, that was back in 1993. Chretien's Liberals came to power with a majority on the strength of a list of promises so extensive they had to make it a book.

They had to run the next election on a blank book, citing the fact that the promises in it were easier to keep. (Would have included the video footage, but 22 Minutes' archive goes only so far back.)

Back to me though (more fun, less controversial). 2 years ago I promised 2 EPs to the 29 or 30 of you still waiting on a follow-up to 2008's "Tip the Bar."

Next video will be tinted red... and blank.

Seriously though. I'm just sick about the whole thing. Got plenty of excuses to offer, but they all suck. Obstacles are meant to be stepped over. I've had to take a serious look at the way I approach life, and hate what I see. Lamenting my misfortunes, I fail to recognize my opportunities... or if I recognize them, I seize on the nearest reason to delay action.

Fear of failure? Definitely. Fear of success? I don't even really know what that means, unless it means fear of failure *after success.*

Not really sure which one this is. Definitely some kind of success to be found here, but... uh...

The sad fact is that I lack imagination. Or as Steve Coogan said in "Hamlet 2":

"Wow. Writing is HARD."

It WAS a stupid movie. But it was also AWESOME.

I'll understand if you think I'm about to make the same mistake as the Liberals did back in 93 (Was it a mistake? That term of broken promises was followed by two more majorities...). But I'll say it anyway, and you will know the truth of it. Another Duke Buzzy record will FINALLY materialize this summer. And it will be the best one ever, mainly because this one will be recorded at Euphonic Sound Studio, not some attic somewhere. And with proper mics, not just my old $120.00 condensor.

Stand fast; it's about to go down. Thank you KOSTAS807 for this lovely mic. Hope you don't mind me borrowing it.

Oh yeah... This time around, the evolution will be televised. Sort of. Join me tomorrow night (Tuesday, April 26th) on the 47 Productions podcast. I have no idea what's going to happen, but that hosts Sean Sirianni and Jack Wilson will get roaring drunk while I make fun of them.

This at least is a promise I can keep.

Life, The Universe and Doing Whatchulike.

I've been hearing this thing about telling the universe what you want so it can answer or some shit. So here goes:

1) My dream job. Been at this a while. Getting kind of old for it though. Don't get it wrong though; I'll keep killing this as long as there's some air in my lungs. Can't stop. But extensive touring is OUT. That cuts your chances in half. Need to branch out.

Get it? *Branch* out? Oh nevermind. Thanks M6rr6w for the sweet picture.

So...

2) Reaching out to directors, animators, video / film producers. and VG developers.

As you can tell by the above link, I have a million voices; every one of them is - in all modesty - sexy as hell.

I have beats for days; every one of them is - in all modesty - sexy as hell.

I have a knack for writing ambient, neo-classical/baroque, hard rock, and video-game-type tracks; every one of them is - in all modesty - sexy as hell.

Though not quite as sexy as Ludwig.
Thank you a77aque.

Reigning in all this talent has been a challenge in itself; you can't be this sexy and totally in control. But if you fit the above categories, we can definitely support each other.

3) Finally, the usual: Peace, Love and Money. The first two are somehow joined at the hip, and the third is ideally the servant of the others. Especially Peace. Yup. Mo' Money, Mo' Peace... That's how the song goes, right? SMH...

See? Branching out pays.
Thank you juliesteelman for this beautiful thing.

Oh... and Happy Good Friday. I was born in the shadow of the cross, and had my first real experience of inner peace in the shadow of another cross. There's something to that, I reckon. But that's another story...

Thank you mannythegreek100 for being the only photobucket user who knows what a Byzantine Cross looks like.

In Defense of the Insane Clown Posse... sort of.

Not a fan. Like, at all. The war paint is pretty cool though.

Fuckin War Paint. How does it work?

ICP is too often the butt of jokes in the Hip Hop Community, and why not? The rhymes are tired, the flow is generic, and the beats are boring. And the lyrics are stupid. That, and they went to war with the invincible Slim Shady (that never goes well for anybody). They never miss an opportunity to make themselves look willfully ignorant - maybe even stupid.

So what's with all the fans?

They exist by the thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Juggalos (hope I spelled that right). And don't diss the Clowns within earshot of a Juggalo; they carry hatchets. Dedicated superfans, every one. How?

Fuckin magnets. That is all.

Yes, those of us who wish the ICP would just go away probably outnumber the Juggalos at least 10 to 1. As my friend - Hip Hop / Comedy Activist and Media Assassin Jack Wilson - put it, we don't accept the ICP as a part of Hip Hop; they are their own thing and that's it.

From where I'm sitting, the situation defies reason. Rappers with no discernible talent for rap, rhyming over beats that pretty much suck, picking fights with giants and losing... It's kind of the American Dream, minus the sucking and losing part.

You may have noticed all the subjective language so far. There's the problem. *I* think they suck. Those legions of fans? They don't. Statistically there's a better chance there's something wrong with *me* than with the ICP. Or their fans.

That spooks me a little.

Seriously. There's nothing wrong with me. Except all that stuff.

I dunno. Judge not lest? Something like that. No, really. We got better things to do than hate the Clowns or the Juggalos. It's a waste of time and energy.

Besides... Without ICP, miracles would go sorely under-appreciated. Who would stand in awe of the mighty rainbow? Who would take the time and imagination to understand fuckin magnets? Who would question the motivations of scientists to explain it all?

We'd have to rely on these two.

Yeah, I went there.

If You're Crazy and You Know It, Change Your Life.

"Am I crazy?"

This is the question every dreamer should ask. Don't just ask yourself either; one way or the other, you'll probably get the wrong answer. If you're as I am, you've got people around you to ask.

And don't underestimate the value of a good psychiatric professional in this area; contrary to popular belief, most of them know what they're talking about.

I wasted a lot of years thinking I was crazy. Trouble was I didn't know I was crazy until my mid-20s. After all, knowing is half the battle. And it's only the first of many battles.

Once you know you're crazy, you can set about getting sane.

Once you know you're crazy, you have a better idea of what kind of crazy you are. Once you know what kind of crazy you are, you can find out the necessary steps to eliminating that craziness from your life. And once you start, you're going to find you're a lot crazier than you thought.

I don't mean to say we're all nutters. We're not. Only about 98% of people are actually mentally unbalanced. The rest of us are rational, compassionate, purpose-driven and successful. But for that 98%, life is a process of aspiration and disappointment... or complacency and laziness... or success and disappointment.

That last one might need some explanation.

Ever accomplish a goal? It's a good feeling for a while. Ever accomplish a goal, only to realize it was illusive and empty? Much more common, no? And then you go "Wait... I got part of that wrong." So you go and attempt the same thing with minor adjustments. And then you are successful and disappointed again.

There's nothing wrong with your methods if they are successful. It's your premise (i.e. goal) that needs replacing.

This is what success looks like for many. Again, everything depends on what you want to accomplish.

A very wise man once told me "The root of all evil is illusion." Wasn't a Buddhist either. This was a Dominican friar, if it matters.

Another wise-ish man (Plato) said that you can't know something is wrong and choose it anyway; the human mind can only choose something if the mind first perceives it as somehow good.

Pretty much the same thing.

If you perceive something bad as something good, you'll pursue it until you get it... or until you give up in despair. If you still think it's good and you still pursue it, you will face the cycle of successful disappointment until you recognize that this thing just ain't right for you.

You could say that - in these circumstances - you are trapped in the "well-lit cell of a single idea." (Thank you GK Chesterton)

And this means you're crazy.

Conversely, you can relentlessly pursue something that IS good and right for you for years without positive results. In that case, it's your method that needs an overhaul. Obviously. This is a lesser form of crazy, and is more easily addressed...

It isn't a lot easier, but there's a simplicity in overhauling your entire focus in life that makes it much more difficult than just changing your approach to the same thing.

In other words, it's a lot easier to jump another Path to Heaven than it is to allow your entire notion of Heaven to be obliterated and replaced by Nirvana or Reincarnation or simple Oblivion. But it might be necessary for the sake of your sanity.

That make sense? It did to me, but I'm crazy.

Moving on...

Before I forget, it's also crazy to keep asking yourself if you're crazy. I mean, really. That's just an obvious crazy-loop.

So how do you know if you're crazy? One way is to keep and review a journal. If you go back and find you've written the same thing over and over ("All work and no play," for instance), you're probably certifiable.

Heeeeeere's Tautology!!

If you find success and feel empty, you have two choices: Either change up you goals, or keep running in circles. The first is the sane response, while the second is even crazier than not noticing in the first place. The truth will set you free, but not before it smashes your expectations into sub-atomic particles of terrifying mystery (see Heaven and Oblivion, above).

If you find that success has been elusive, there's still a possibility that your goals are crazy; but you won't know til you change your method. Til then, you're just kind of crazy.

Just try looking at the world from a different angle.

If you read this and laughed it off, my guess is you're part of the 2% who were never crazy... or you were crazy and you got better. In that case, leave your name and contact info in the comments section, and prepare for a barrage of questions.

Enough! I go now into my own loop of self-preservation and self-destruction... In other words, I'm off to get ready for work.

People I Emulate Tonight... and the Matrix

Yes, I watched the English-language leaders' debate last night. No, I'm not going to rant about it. I'll leave that to better men. I'm on a whole 'nother trip today.

In my little ongoing fight against negativity, I encounter personal obstacles, like anybody else. Too often (as in all the time with occasional breaks) I allow these distractions to take the place of focus. Eyes fall from the prize and become the contest. This is bad.

On the Job (the one that pays the bills), it's a matter of confronting the things I do not want & trying to find the lesson and/or joy in the moment; this is something with which I have always struggled, but at which I'm getting better. It can be carried too far though. This has reached the point of distraction.

From what?

Off the Job, I am recovering from the Job. This is typical, no? I still have ambitions in me that won't let up, and I am increasingly distracted from them by the thing that's keeping me alive to pursue them.

Sound familiar?

Once in a while, I encounter someone on the Job who reminds me what I'm doing on this planet. A couple days ago a woman thanked me for the beverage I had prepared with speed and precision. I answered that it was my karma to do so. She said "Only if you truly embrace it."

Let's get it straight here. I take my pathetic little Job with a contradictory combination of seriousness and salt. There are many things I'd rather be doing (maybe hundreds, although I tend to lose count after 3), so I do the work as quickly as I can; this is the speed factor, and gets me out of the place at the earliest time I can manage. I also have a lot of respect for my coworkers, and do my utmost on the Job to make sure the one who follows me is in the best possible position to do their Job.

This blend of speed and dedication is what I like to call "efficiency." I learned it all by myself, and have no one to thank for it... unless there's a Divine Presence that teaches us things no one else can teach us (a possibility I am unable to entirely discount).

For the parts of life that fall outside the Job, I have to thank many people for their inadvertent lessons to me. Here's a sample:

Isaac Ellis: Your transformation over the past year has been something to behold. The laughing lotus I see today is a far cry from the onion who was trapped in the gravitational field of a singularity yesterday... not to put too fine a point on it. Thank you for the lessons in courage and honesty with the self.

Mindbender Supreme: I know your frustration with this planet knows no bounds, and yet you maintain a core of peace and love that would send Neil Young into envious convulsions. Thanks for the lessons in excellence.

Lexx Analog: I don't know where you get your energy from, but I want 2 of whatever you're on.* You are the best kind of shameless, the most dangerous kind of tireless, and have the coolest mutton chops this side of Wales. Thanks for the lessons in persistence... and the photos. :D

MC FUBB: Quite possibly the most slept-on Hip-Hop artist in the Dot, you seem to go about your hustle in the background of every music event - not pimping yourself out from the rooftops, but quietly engaging mofos one at a time, on the spot as they approach. Thanks for the lessons in patience.

C-Lo: A journey begins with a single step; this we know. A journey is comprised of many steps; this we also know. What steps must be taken towards the end of the journey? This we must learn by trial and error (emphasis on error for most of us). And without a self-drawn road map, we either run around in circles or follow somebody who might be a bigger fool than we imagine. Some of us get discouraged after having followed many fools and run in many circles. Thank you for helping me to define the steps between the starting point and the destination... and for being the best girlfriend in human history.

James Pew: I have been a witness to many of your more recent triumphs and defeats. Your dedication to the Independent movement is clear, even when you are beset with personal crisis. You are a man of obvious strengths and weaknesses, and your struggle to balance them is exemplary. Thank you for the lessons in single-mindedness.**

There are many others, obviously. I know more than 6 people, and they all teach me things without trying to. I might even have to start another blog some time, and just call it "The Gratitude Express" or some shit like that.

In any event, the moment is telling me it is time now to stop talking about it and DO it. So, you know... See you later.

*Turns out it was just coffee.

**Single-Mindedness (noun): The discipline of keeping one's goals in focus and remaining dedicated to them, without necessarily disregarding the rest of reality. See also "keeping things in perspective."

A Brief History of the Present

I heard this years ago on Ministry's "Jesus Built My Hot Rod." I think it's a sample from a movie about driving big trucks, but it reverberates throughout many chambers of the mind:

"Where you come from is gone; where you thought you were goin to weren't never there, and where you are ain't no good unless you can get away from it." - unknown

Translation: The past is over, the future ain't real, and the present is so fleeting as to already be the past.

If you don't keep moving and attentive, you live in the past, and you're over.

If you over-think the future, or you're living somewhere that ain't real. And the present constantly escapes you.

And right now the present is calling me to preparations for the immediate future.

This update brought to you by the past. See you in another present.

Worst. Move. Ever. Sort of.

This is the part where I bitch about something for a while and then find the humor in it.

Two days ago I moved with my girlfriend into the apartment we will now be sharing with my brother. That's the short version. If you don't want the long version, skip ahead to the last paragraph.

First, I woke up to my sweetheart (and pillar of strength) moderately freaking out because the phone had been disconnected 12 hours early (and with it, the internet). The people coming to help us now had no way to ring the doorbell, since our intercom came through the phone. One of these people was the gentleman who would be driving the 24-ft truck. Fortunately, when she went down to the building's office to see if she could use their computer and/or telephone, she found the aforementioned gentleman wandering about the lobby somehow.

Apparently, renting the truck was also temporally set back because the staff at Budget take a long time in the bathroom. Not judging; this is just what I've heard.

So this set us back an hour.

During this time, I had been running around my neighborhood looking for a store that (a) was open, and (b) had a supply of packing tape. We had gone through two rolls of the stuff & still had some boxes to seal. This mission took an hour. I then sealed the boxes and spent about 20 minutes wondering why the truck had not yet arrived.

From there I went to the superintendent (really nice guy) to explain why we weren't filling up the elevator we'd booked 4 weeks previously for 10AM (it was 10:20 AM when I offered the explanation). He had no problems with this, and set it up for me. So I started moving whatever I could carry myself into the loading bay at the back of the building.

Fast-forward to 11:15 AM. We've got 45 minutes until our time for the elevator expires, and 75 minutes until our time with the elevator at the new building expires. The truck has arrived, and so have the other three people helping us.

Of course we went over the allotted time. Of course we did. By an hour and a half, give or take a bit. The people moving in behind us were very understanding. We worked out a system by which we would bring our gear down from the 15th floor, empty it, load up their stuff, haul it to the 29th floor, go back to the 15th, load up, and repeat.

Truck loaded, we reckon the glitches are all out of the way and we can just get to the new place and unload without incident. We get there just as our reserved time for the elevator expires.

All parties involved realized what the situation was, the fact that it "is what it is," and that we had to just proceed and get the shit done.

Now this new building has a really interesting loading bay. For starters, it's in FRONT of the building, not behind. And it comes off a narrow, crescent-shaped driveway - which is not conducive to driving really big trucks. Good news is we got the truck in, and it only took about 20 minutes. Bad news is, we took the side off an SUV across the street on the way.

This is when my brother had his first panic attack of the day.

I think it was 4:30PM when I blacked out. I have vague recollections of people giving me water and muffins. Images of stone walls, police cars (and what I'm told was a wonderful officer with a knack for diffusing volatile situations), a screaming crazy lady with porn-star sunglasses (who, I'm told, owns the truck we hit, and has not been educated in the art of getting more flies with honey). There were panicking friends and relatives, friends reworking their personal budgets for the next month, my girlfriend bursting into tears after realizing the cat has been in a carrier the whole time (and probably panicking too), and a building superintendent asking us when we would make an end of it.

When I came to, everybody was sitting in a living room (presumably my new one), drinking beer and laughing between complaints of pain and suffering. Pizza had been ordered and was en route. Another friend had arrived and was sliding furniture and boxes around to make the place more hospitable. The cat was even showing signs of settling in.

Then the fire alarm went off.

My brother began laughing almost hysterically, and I think I might have too. The Mrs found the cat and - despite very vocal protests from the latter - got her into the carrier again. We all headed for the fire exit and met our new neighbors on the way out.

Outside we were met with 4 fire trucks and several firefighters with axes and breathing apparatuses (apparati?). My hopes of a false alarm had been dashed. But this is where it gets funny.

Turns out the crazy lady with the porn-star glasses lives in our building. I know this because she was leading a small group of firefighters into the parking garage and talking a mile a minute as they went. I later found out she'd tripped the alarm by driving into a fire sprinkler with her newly rented car.

Everybody in my party thought this was hilarious.

Finally, as things were calming down and we were about to be allowed back into the building, a police cruiser rolled up (as often happens in case of fire). Somebody said "Wouldn't it be funny if it was the same cop?"

As I was chuckling at this possibility, guess who got out of the cruiser. He didn't even look at us.

The next paragraph is the last one. Those who have skipped ahead may resume reading.

I can't speak for everybody present, but at that moment I realized this had not been the worst day of my life. At that moment it had suddenly become the funniest one. We had only lost one dining room chair and a certain amount of pride (both easily restored if one is interested in getting them back). I think one of our drivers has to go to court at some point and pay a fine, but he seems to be at peace with it; we've offered to help him out in any way we can. Nobody had been seriously injured or killed, and I'm sure the neighbors will forget all about it in a week. I know I shall spare no effort in forgetting.