“I had the first gig last Saturday and it was as exciting as watching white paint dry in a small white room with white ceiling and floor…if I’ve ever reached a point of self questioning purpose this is it. I’ve been going this way for a good few years now I know but I’ve really grown tired of supplying music for clueless, vicarious blood sucking vampire cunts who expect to hear something…I wish they’d all log into their facebook shite at the same time and create some sort of cyber space power surge and have an enormous popular media culture fueled epileptic seizure and spend the rest of their lives communicating through the art of dribbling.”—Email received from a friend earlier this month.
“Okay, so, this talk of birds stemmed from my “early bird” comment and I mentioned “early birds” because I am one and wanted to tell the story, or, more accurately, a story of a early bird – that early bird being me: yours truly. I realize this piece reeks of error and grammatical what-the-fuckery, but I am currently experimenting with automatic writing – writing without stopping, sans organization and planning and perhaps you’ll find it disturbing, but, for me it’s very amusing. I can pardon my lack of talent by deeming this as “artistic experimentation” and by giving this exercise such a hyper-intellectual persona, I sort of make myself look like some kind of maddened genius who is blessed with an enviable form of insanity. I can talk about birds’ feet and sheep and act like it all means something when really it’s just my way of taking a paintbrush, dipping it an excess of paint, splattering said paint all over some underappreciated surface, calling my mess “art”, and showcasing it for a bunch of soul-less art-viewers to drool over while I sit back and laugh about how mediocre we are, my “work” and I. I know nothing about art! I know nothing about writing! What I do know is – my mind is cramped, my brain is suffocated by excessive thought, minute memories! This is my method for getting some air! This is the bowel-movement of my mind! You are witnessing my brain take one, huge, satisfactory shit! I am suffering from mental incontinence! You know, if I were to take my brain and dissect it and push it upon an ink pad to produce some kind of stamp, this is what the image would look like! This text, this senseless rambling is the graphic representation of me! There I go – stating the obvious! There I go – employing a cliché! There I go – being intellectually lazy! But at least I don’t sleep all day!”—Part of an email I received from a friend earlier today.