Letting Go

Recently Automne Vein, the band I'm a member of released a song entitled "Letting Go." As we were putting the album together I had plans to redo the vocals at the beginning but my band mate said "don't mess with them, they're fine." Although since recording that, my vocals have since become stronger, but then I guess I have to let go of "Letting Go."

I created the song as a meditative message to my self, to let go, to live in the instant, let the future unravel as it wishes, and let the unchangable past remain in the past.

The phrase in the song that says, "I don't need anyone, I choose to walk alone" refers to me taking a time out, to reflect to heal, to just breathe.

I find myself wanting to write a lot at this moment, but the words just won't seem to come out. I wanted to write something about when the time comes to be open to the idea of connection, connection with someone in friendship, or more. I'm amazed that when I take a few steps toward this, I tend to take a hundred or so back. When you've let someone in and they wreaked havoc on your heart and mind, you want to protect that part of yourself, lock it away, telling yourself "don't be foolish, again." But we all need friends we all need connections, and maybe the fear I'm feeling is another part of healing. Oddly, being accepted or disaproved of isn't the issue, the issue is letting myself be vulnerable enough to take a chance and really letting someone in.

I guess when I'm ready, and fate is ready, it will happen. Until then I'll just keep taking little steps, throwing positive actions against the negative fear I still feel.
And I'll keep reminding myself to let go.

Broken

You sit across from me, feels to you
like everything is going so well
but the box isn't open yet
and you've yet to see inside
you smile kindly, so interested
because you've yet to learn
I won't be what you expect

and then you ask
"how did you end up here"
and I retreat
I'm sure you cannot deal
I'm know you cannot deal
and this is what keeps me empty
and this is why I live in darkness
entombed in the isolation I've been
doomed by my own journey
If I spoke of truth I've experienced
they are shadows you cannot grasp
This is what I am
this is who I am
this is how i am...
broken
broken

you've come to slowly dissect
and see if I'm a fit
for your plans
for your hope
for your loving embrace
yet soon you'll run so fast
for
this is what I am
this is who I am
this is how I am....
broken
so broken...

You sit across from me, feels to you
like everything is going so well
but the box isn't open yet
and you've yet to see inside....

No Imprint

A person's past is full of moments. Moments of splendor, love, excitement and treasure. For me, however, the shape my memory takes most often is the invisible toxic spectre of regret. I blame myself for so many things in the past, anger, self-righteousness, ignorance,and most of all, failure.
I often look through the window of my mind's landscape and wonder who that person was. How could this monster have been me? How could I have been so misled, so wrong?
In those moments I am overwhelmed by a thousand parasitic entities of shame, I lose all faith in myself, hope is squeezed out of the future, and I find myself in a kind of unshakable shock.
"Is all this mess I've created, is this what I was born for? To destroy, to hurt, to fail?"
I want to bang on that window, tell a hundred different past versions of myself to change, change before it's too late!
I want to save them from the complete lack of meaning I'm experiencing now.
And yet, I can't go back. I can change nothing in that past, so why do I so often find myself at that window.
I think the answer is simple, I can't forgive myself. I can't show myself mercy.
I'm struggling to learn to live in the now, to not transport my conciousness into expectations of what tomorrow should be, or demons of yesterday that I never should have been.
I'm trying to get to a place where I need nothing. Where I have no fantasies or hope. A place where I simply am. No identity, no voice, a shape that exists without imagination. A shape that leaves no imprint.

The Burning

It seems now that spending even a short time in the sun causes me to get sick. Even a few moments leaves me feeling fatigued and makes my sinuses go crazy. I know what caused this...I just didn't expect the effects to be quite this drastic.
On labor day monday I went hiking in Palo Duro Canyon. The temperature at the bottom of the canyon was somewhere between 105 and 110 degrees.
To make a long story short, I suffered heat exhaustion, and was taken by ambulance to the hospital. I was well prepared with a lot of powerade, but that didn't help. I got into trouble really fast.

I'm not about to say I came close to dying. The truth is I have no idea. What I do know is, without Elizabeth, I wouldn't have struggled to hang on, I would have just let go. There were moments of peace in that dizzy, nauseating disorientation, laying in the dirt, in the shade of what I think was a mesquite bush, though my memory on that is foggy.
I guess the big question I'm left with is purpose. What is my purpose for being in this world? Maybe the purpose is to learn there is no purpose. There is no special fate that awaits me, no plan that steers my life. At least it doesn't feel like it.
I don't know. It's confusing. What kind of purpose would I want, what kind of purpose is enough?
The thoughts churn inside me, until I force them into silence. I tell myself to just stop thinking. That day, out in the sun, was just an event. There is no signifigance or meaning, unless I project one into it.
For the moment let me be at peace without purpose. I think the following says it best...

The Beginning

It starts slow, like a single drop of water plummeting from the sky, or blood seeping through a small cut. It is just words, a means of venting out the darkness that tries to stagnate deep in the ominous labyrinth of my mind.
It's nothing profound, just one person's perception, voiced and forgotten.

I will be writing about all the things going through my mind, which by the way, is not reader friendly. The audience is not the point, the healing is, working through the chaotic maze of thought to find a new life, a new hope.

When I create music, there is another force flowing through me, it gives me answers, and when I write it is the same. Sometimes there will be no answers, only the relief of bleeding out and letting go. That alone makes creating anything worth while.

The Devil and Daniel Johnston

Jeff Feuerzeig directed this documentary about the mentally tormented manic depressive artist Daniel Johnston. Using lots of Daniel's own early personal footage and music, we follow him through his turbulent life. We hear stories from his friends about his erratic and sometimes dangerous behavior. One of the weirdest interviews is the one featuring the lead singer of Butthole Surfers. I was inspired to check this out after seeing The Frames(Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova) perform with him on Austin City Limits. The documentary is heavy and dark, and at points I just felt overwhelmed. I was amazed by how many famous artists were touched by him, including Kurt Cobain. The documentary succeeded in taking me into his dark world.....it didn't justify it, or even really explain it in a way that was tidy and neat. It was brutal in it's honesty, much like Daniel is in creating and performing his music. I give this 7 out of 10

Death Note 2

The "Death Note" film series is based on the popular japanese manga/anime, and the two films are actually one story told in two parts. Because of this, I'm reviewing them both as one.
The story centers around Light Yagami as he discovers that writing someone's name in a notebook he found, kills them. So as the body count climbs, the police bring in the mysterious genius "L" to capture the killer(Light) known to the public as "Kira". I don't want to say to much else plot-wise, but what I will say is that this film is strong enough in it's acting that I forgot and forgave some of the bad c.g.i. work. I loved the characters, although I got really tired of watching "L" pig out on sweets non-stop. I was intriqued by the story and loved the way the characters interacted and challenged each other. I also think "L" was creepier than either one of the God's of Death. The moral dilemmas of the film do not get in the way of its storytelling, which is very solid.
I highly recommend these two films....I give them both an 9 out of 10.