Archive for the ‘Music’ Category

First off I would like to apologize for my abnormal gap between posts. Not to sound like a Catholic in confession, but it has been six days since my last post. This is by far a record for me, and I feel terrible about it. I would like to try something different for today’s post. This has actually been an idea I wanted to try for some time now, but I always get anxiety when it comes to trying something new in fear of failure. So here it goes; I hope you enjoy!

I am a huge fan of music, because of my job I am able to listen to music in my office for eight hours a day five days a week. This is one of the many fantastic parts of my job. I just throw my iPod in and continue to try to listen to every song on it; which has become a two plus year’s process (I am 4k songs away from accomplishing this feat.)

I am a fan of all music types. In fact I have a little bit of everything on my iPod. I have often thought that these songwriters have somehow gotten into my head and wrote a song specifically for me. Everything just seems to fall into place. The musical arrangement is set up perfectly for the feelings I have on the subject, and like I said the words are pulled directly from my mind and experiences. I am by no means a crier, in fact crying is something which does not come easy to me, but there are certain songs which will bring tears to my eyes because of how emotionally powerful they are.

The song lyrics I would like to post today is Pink Floyds “The Final Cut” off of their Final Cut album. This song is the perfect combination between lyrics and musical arrangements. Together they form one of the most beautiful songs of all time.

The Final Cut (Waters)

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I’m spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.

If you negotiate the minefield in the drive
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
And if you make it past the shotgun in the hall,
Dial the combination, open the priest hole
And if I’m in I’ll tell you what’s behind the wall.

There’s a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you’re sleeping with your new found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?

And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone?
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?

Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.     ***okay so I added link to song. Let me know if it doesnt work***

This song speaks of my depression, the fortified walls I have built around myself, and my fears of what will happen if I let anybody in. I could go on and on discussing how this song is pertinent to my life, considering this song fits me perfectly line for line I am choosing to not break it down that way. Instead I am just going to touch on some key points.

The first verse touches on how I feel when I hit a depression. The place I go to hide away from the world. This is the dark hole far away from the light of day. The next verse discuss the fortifications I have built to keep people out, and hiding who I really am and how I really feel. If you notice it touches on layers of protection used to keep people out. I have built my wall around minefields, cold eyes, shotguns, and combinations. The final line of these selected verses touches on how my fortifications keep myself locked away from the world. Even if you get past my many obstacles I may be so locked away inside myself I may not be there to answer.  

The following three lines are the only part of the song which has no correlation to my life, but the following two lines are rather powerful. I often times feel I am not worthy of love, and the concept that anyone can truly love me unconditionally is just a crazy dream. The next twelve lines touch on my fears of showing people my vulnerable sides my dark side and my weak side. If I open up to you will you screw me over? Will you take my children away and lock me up, or will you take me home and comfort me in your arms. Will I end up alone and broken if I open up to you?

The final verse is the complete collapse I have when I do open up and let people see me in my vulnerable state. If I keep everything locked away from other people then I suffer in silence, and things don’t seem so real. But once I open up then all the pain and suffering rushes out like a broken floodgate. This rush of negativity drives me to suicidal thoughts, but I never have the nerve or strength to make that final cut.  

I am always nervous about trying something different on here so I would like to ask my readers if this was an enjoyable read or not. I apologize my writing skills have decreased quite a bit since I started my leave, so I am a bit rusty and out of my normal routine making it extremely difficult to stay focused enough to put complete thoughts together.

Please feedback would be great.

About two years ago Fox debut a new show called “Glee.” When I saw the promo spots for this show I thought to myself; “there is no f’ing way I am watching this show!” I was flipping through the channels one boring night when I came across Glee. I stopped for a moment to give it a try. I was immediately drawn in to the cheesy story line and the way the cast busted out into song ala “Grease.” The first season they did a ton of retro songs that were relevant to my childhood and teen years. I enjoyed the various different spins they would put on some of my favorite songs. I enjoyed the “musical play” aspect of the show so much I went out and bought each album they produced. I kept my new found label as a “Gleek” a secret. I would hide in shame and snack on Goldfish while I sang along in my head.

The next season my whole family got involved in watching Glee. My wife at first was hesitant and thought the show was very bad, but she was soon just as hooked in as we were. The creators of the show did another fantastic job of putting together more cheesy storylines and the song choices were fantastic as well. In time laying down and watching Glee became a family tradition. I still figured I should watch who I tell about my secret joy of watching Glee to. Perhaps it is the masculine side of me saying it is very feminine to enjoy this show. I don’t know what to say I am a sucker for show tunes. If I had the courage I would be on stage doing plays just willy nilly dancing around and singing my heart out.  

Entering into the third season of Glee I can honestly say I am no longer a fan. The show still has its cheesy storylines, but they just seem played out. The show still has the cast suddenly without notice breaking out into song and dance, but the song choice is just horrendous. This will be the first time I choose not to get the newest Glee album. When we all lay down to watch this show it has become a form of sadistic torture just to get through it. Five minutes feels like five hours! It is so bad, where every night when the kids want to watch it I have to do Jedi mind tricks on them so they become distracted and forget about it. I think in order for me to get through the remainder of this season I am going to have to have a few stiff drinks to numb my mind.

I am getting really tired with the poor lonely gay kid story. I understand they may be trying to bring to light the bullying that goes on to kids who are openly gay and I acknowledge it, but it has grown tired. I also do not think they should show two female cheerleaders making out. I also think those same damn cheerleaders should wear something to school other than their cheerleading outfits. Finally please for the love of God write the kid in the wheelchair off the show! Every time they do a number and his dumbass is just wheeling around it causes rage. I think where I really lost it was when the kid in the wheelchair was allowed to play football and scored a touchdown. How hard is it to push a crippled kid in a wheelchair over? Finally please explain to me how spontaneous song breakouts can be choreographed so well. There are so many things about this show that make me want to pull my hair out, yet I continue to watch.

This show can be saved by choosing better songs. I do not think doing an entire show on “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” is a good idea. They had a really good thing going in the first two seasons. They chose songs from the past and songs from today. What I liked about it was hearing a new spin on songs I like. Although the “Horror Picture Show” was an okay movie, I do not think you are going to find a large audience who has either seen it, or would subject themselves to listing to the Glee cast singing them. I will continue to watch this show, but not because I enjoy it I will be watching this because my kids enjoy it. I truly hope they get their shit together and realize they are ruining a great thing.

  1. Grabbing a gat and going rat a tat tat is the proper way to solve a problem.
  2. When contemplating money it is advised to roll down the street and smoke Indo while sipping on some gin and juice. This is guaranteed to make you laid back.
  3. Apparently to have a “good day” you must not see a jacker, there must be no helicopters looking for a murder, and not having to use my AK. According to this I have NEVER had a good day.
  4. I have learned to respect all those who break their neck to keep their hoes in check.
  5. I think I am lonely because I keep renewing my membership into sharing Other Peoples Property. I have to remember there is no room for relationships there’s only room to hit it. I just wish this membership had an insurance plan for STD’s.
  6. I will throw my hands in the air from time-to-time just to remind my co-workers I am a true playa.
  7. To get the biatches you must: creep from behind, ask who you want to be with, what your interests are, what number to dial, then tell them I am going to call my crew..they should call their crew, then we will rendezvous… then at the rendezvous tell the ladies that they should be havin’ my babies.
  8. I try my hardest to not get my monkey ass played by hanging out with a true crew down with the coochie bang.
  9. I learned complex mathematic riddles such as: Do I have enough hands If I were to have my hands on a sawed off shotgun hand on the pump. My left hand is on the forty where I am puffin on a blunt, while simultaneously pumping said shotgun.
  10. It feels good to be a gangsta for the following reasons:
  • They always have a hip cap
  • They think deep
  • They are us 365 a year 24/7
  • Bitches look at them as a stop sign
  • They hit switches in a black six-fo

Sitting in the office  iPod on shuffle, I came across an album by Ke$ha “Animal.” Please do not ask me why I had this album on my iPod. I base my decision to purchase albums based off Amazon’s 100 bestseller list. I will get every album on this list about once a month. I am ashamed of this so I am trying to make excuses; but I digress. I am suffering through this album,  not sure if I like it or hate it. I do know if someone was around I would quickly change it out, sorta like Bryan Adams.

This song “Mr. Watson” came on and as I was listening to the lyrics my jaw hit the floor. The song is about a highschool student who wants to fuck her teacher. I could not believe what I was hearing!

If we look through history we will see music is not only a product of current events; it also shapes our morals and ethics. The music of the sixties created the hippie movement. Rap of the nineties promoting violence, and degrading woman; created a more violent society not to mention the destruction of the english language.

I am sure Ke$ha target audience is teenage kids. The lyrics are encouraging kids in highschool to come on to their teachers. We all conform to our media influences whether we realize it or not; children especially mimic their idols. The kids will sing the lyrics and jam to the song; while the message is sinking into their sub-concience. The moment these messages hit our sub-concience we are trapped (this is how we are conformed into consumer slaves.) Here are the lyrics:

Mr. Watson 

(Just can’t wait)
Oh boy I just can’t wait for history class
It’s my favorite hour of the day
(My favorite hour of the day)
Up on the chalkboard I just love your ass(Mmm)
When you write notes it shake,shake,shakes
(shake, shake, shakes)

So when you get back my pop quiz (pop quiz)
What will you think when you read this?

Mr. Watson I Want To Get With You
I Won’t Tell A Soul What We’re Gonna Do
Wanna Get My Hands In Your Khaki Pants
Teacher Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?
(Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?)
‘Coz I am coming on to you

Ha ha ha ha ha

Can’t put my finger on what’s so sexy?
(so sexy)
And why I want you in my bed (or on your desk)?
Is it your power, your authority?
Or for the thrill of being so so bad (So bad)

Can I please see you after class?
There is somthing that I have to ask(ha ha)

Mr. Watson I Want To Get With You
I Wont Tell A Soul What We’re Gonna Do
Want To Get My Hands In Your Khaki Pants
Teacher Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?
(Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?)
‘Coz i am coming on to you

Now I know it’s a fantasy yours
You know (you know)
It’s a fantasy of mine
So why waste time?
Let’s do this thing tonight

Mr. Watson I Want To Get With You
(Mr. Watson I want to sleep with you)
I Wont Tell A Soul What Were Gonna Do
Want To Get My Hands In Your Khaki Pants
Teacher Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?
(Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?)
‘Coz i am coming on to you

(Come and get it)
Mr. Watson I Want To Get With You
I Wont Tell A Soul What Were Gonna Do
Want To Get My Hands In Your Khaki Pants
Teacher Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?
(Teacher whatcha’ gonna do?)
‘Coz i am coming on to you

Come and get it (mmmm)

By: Ke$ha

When I get home I am going to make sure this album is not on my daughters ipod, any parents out there please do the same. It is ultiimatly the parents responsibility to monitor what their kids  listen to, watch, and who their peers are.

What do you think?

I have never responded well to conventional therapy, for some reason I can not stick with it. My logical thought behind that is in therapy you are forced to see who you really are. I already loath my existence and to discover more flaws about myself is only that much more earth shattering. I know I will never be good enough as a husband, father, and person.

This is why I get tattoos, I hope when I put art on my body somehow it improves me as a person. The same is true with expressing myself through piercings, or an anti-conforming appearance. I do these things to disguise and change the piece of shit I am. When I am lucky enough to get one of these things it makes me feel better about myself.

I have no self-worth of who I am. It is so painful knowing you fail in every aspect of your existence. To look in the mirror and hate your own reflection. Everything I touch; begins to decay and eventually dies. With all these things I continue to open my eyes in the morning. Why? If the world knew how I felt inside; there would be a mercy killing. I do not know how to go on. I am unable to weep, because my tears are contained within this stone wall. I am unable to feel joy, because of my thorn shackles.

I have found three coping methods, which allows me to tap into my inner feelings. It acts as the glass against my wall. The trifecta is music, the Tao, and writing. It is these three things which allows my tears to flow, find internal strength, and express myself without judgement. Like the drugs I have drowned myself in, these things only work when they are soaked into my existence.

I write because I need to. I would love nothing more than to be heard by the masses. I am a realist and know my dreams will never come to fruition, like so many things in my life is a hollow dream filled with false hopes. I wake up from this dream, and realize it is what it is; a dream. It has no barring in reality.

I still write, because I continue to follow this delusion that I have talent. There are millions of people who blog, and try to write books, and there are millions who fail. My history of failures only ensure the same outcome. I still write, because for a moment I feel relief. Everytime I metaphorically kill myself it stops me for a moment of literally becoming free.

I find internal strength and hope in being a better man through the Tao Te Ching. This to is short-lived unless I study, reflect, and write everyday. When I leave the words of Lao-tzu the Tao leaves me, and I become what I really am.

No words, no force, no false self-worth can change fate; no matter how many times I try to delude myself. For a fleeting moment my thorn shackles are off and I am allowed to roam these four walls. I try to find an escape. I see the blood and realize an exit doesn’t exist; I end up yearning for the pain my shackles bring.

Music allows me to cry in private, not to show my weakness to a cruel unforgiving world. It is in the words, the arrangements, and feeling which truly touch me. I find myself and lessons within song. I find sadness, strength, and hope. I experience another fleeting moment of serenity which is short-lived no matter how long I listen. I admire their talents and gifts.

All these things mean nothing. It is a vapor from which I desperately try to grab a hold of. It is the ghost of hope, the fairy tales of religion. I used to fear cancer to a point of panic. I welcome and pray for this black death. I deserve the suffering it will bring. No matter how many times I yearned for the peaceful hand of the reaper, I feared the loss of my existence. I no longer fear the reality of a hand which will not greet me.

Some may read this and feel concerned, some may call to see how I am, and others may offer words of encouragement. Please save me the embarrassment of hearing lies. Concern from those who do not care is meaningless, calls from those who don’t will fall on unanswered lines, and encouragement from those who know nothing of my four walls will mean nothing.

Lost in song, words of old, and I write. For now I cry, for now there is hope, for now I am not judged, for now I am.

The destruction of the English language started with rap music in the late eighties. I grew up listening to this rap music. I remember trying to mimic the language, attitude, and lifestyles of the rap culture. Here I was living in the suburbs of Minnesota with my pants hanging off my ass, gang signs on my $2.00 white flip-flops, and a shitty ass attitude. I am certain that I looked like a complete douche, but you live and you learn.

I am thankful I didn’t grow up with the rap music that is on the market today. The ghetto slang going around today is as silly as it is complex, so much so that there are entire websites dedicated to translating this goofy shit. I do know that if any of my children came home and used the phrase “real talk” I would most likely drop kick their asses out the window, then reprogram them to talk like normal human beings.

I bring this up because I was listening to T.I.’s “Swing Ya Rag”. The lyrics are laughable at best, and all I can picture is some white kid in the Mall of America swinging his Gucci rag, pants sagging, goofy flat billed baseball cap cocked to the side, and sporting a Gucci purse. These types of antics are downright psychotic, and frankly I would assume that he would be sent to the loony bin for looking like a complete dumbass.

As a parent, I could not allow my child to go out in public like that. I would never allow either of my sons to carry a purse. They could argue all they wanted to say it’s a handbag or backpack. My response would be a simple “it’s a purse dumbass; unless your role is the catcher, you’re not leaving this house”. The day I utter those words, will be the day I finally have to accept that I am old.

These are things I worry about. Honestly though if either of my son’s started going through that phase, I would drive them to North Minneapolis and drop their silly little ass’s off. I am sure they would un-cock their goofy looking flat billed hat’s, pull up their pants, and hide their fruity little man purse. It is easy for suburban kids to act ghetto when they know they won’t get killed for dressing like a total retard.