Category Archives: self doubt and struggle

Cause sometimes you just can’t get enough rambling

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Here I am again, posting…

I’m searching for a voice in these blog posts.. it’s difficult to find…

I think my voice is.. kinda… Beat-esk in the sense that I feel beat-en.. in the sense of… what you got form the Beat generation. And I’m deeply influenced by those guys anyway.

But I think it’s like..

I don’t know.. some percentage of what I post I think is really fucking good.. an a much larger percentage I think is embarrassingly flawed.. .and I think it must have something to do with the voice.

What’s strong.. in me is often this kind of… beaten down person.. worn down.. weary… from slings and arrows of suffering.. inward suffering.. who the fuck taught you to suffer like this?’

Well.. whatever the fuck it is it is.. and it is.. a matter of fact.. it is reality… it is reality in all it’s darkness.. glorying in it like pig in shit… and that…. that is a beautiful thing!

I mean.. fuck.. so much of the shit people write.. they are so concerned with there careers and business and all this shit.. that reality.. is totally white washed away.. nobody knows what the fuck reality is off in those lands.. this land.. that I’m standing on here.. is no that land, let me tell you…

And that.. that simple fact.. that’s enough to make it worth reading.. hearing.. see what this voice has to say… it could be something worth while… and you feel that possibility ever more acutely as the old sources of whatever.. grow more and more boring.. as there deception takes effect.

Well anyway.. I get concerned with my bullshit to.. and get sucked in.. and become this creature.. like Golomn or something… who’s not even fully human.. but’s still shooting out these posts.. and what the fuck does he think he’s doing?

I don’t know.

But I see this in me and I go… Jesus.. we got some wiring issues going on…

This deal about the public self.. this here is my public self…

It’s one version of me.. there are others.. some more positive then others…

I spend a lot of time these days thinking about getting old and all the life I failed to live up until this point.. and figuring that should tell me about all the life I will fail to live going forward.. which brings me to this issue of.. well just what the fuck should I be doing..

But as I say.. I’m fucking tired

to tired edit this shit..

so deal with my poor craft…

The Sleep Problem

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It’s 4 19 AM

I’m not sleeping.

Last night? I got like.. 4 hours I think?

So I’m in surreal reality-vill.. and… feel like I’m falling apart.

My mind is plagued by… all kinds of stuff really…

In my.. well.. forever wrestling with self stuff stuff… the last idea I’m kinda… clinging to is the idea that I ought to “Zen out.”

My therapist would probably approve.

By Zen-ing out.. I mean… a kind of psychological disengagement with entangling things.. to withdraw my psychic energy from such things… radically so.. to kinda.. try and.. and…

Well I don’t know.. I wont tell the whole story here..

I’ll just go so far as to say… I’m tired and in a surreal place and… I think I’m to go to bed and see how that works out for me.

Late night whatever’s.. .about a day in the life

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It’s 10 30 PM and I’m signing out…

Today was.. not a terribly productive day.. I have a lot of days like this. I feel pretty down on myself for the day… but…. well.. I don’t know…

Hmmm…..

I did work on this music project I’ve been working on for a while now.. I think its coming along pretty well.. just slow..

Ok.. well I think…

So this business of me not being productive… I have this need to find ways of rationalizing this.. I guess its to fight the part of me that gets down on myself over stuff like this.. but…

Well the way I look at it is.. I don’t know if I’d say I don’t believe in free will, just that I think the issue of the will is complex.. and we’ve known for a long time that the conscious will is not really running the show of how our lives unfold.

So what the hell is going on in my unconscious?

Well I think it’s the relative isolation of my life.. not getting out enough.. I think I can afford to go out this thursday… to this.. I don’t know.. social media and journalism workshop…

But I NEED to get out more, to have more social contact.. one way or another.. and I think what it is is it’s really just this.. kinda pushing at me.. and distracting me from my work.. and I think.. its sorta a question of quality of social experience to…

The other part of it is just.. the kind of environmental stressors.. how bad this month has been for me.. how bad everything has been for me for so long…

But the deal is that somehow I gotta pull myself out of it… Like it’s up to me to make my life a better place.. that’s the thing…

And there’s real questions in my mind.. if the way to do it is to work on projects like this music project.. or to work on getting work… somehow… so that I can have more money… and like.. not have to go through the difficulty I seem to go through every month.

And having a job would help my social situation.. and a whole bunch of other elements…. of stuff.

Anyway.. i’m signing out…

The Unvarnished

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To my name right now is… a little more then $10, to get me through the month. Oh what a month. There’s possibilities of getting more money here or there.. but basically.. that $10 is the end of the line.

The good news is.. as of tomorrow my Food Stamps will kick in.. and in fact I have $10 or so on my food stamps currently.. and between that and the Holliston food pantry…. I don’t have to worry about not having food to eat.

I am.. poor… I am.. below the poverty line.. I am.. in a very difficult kind of economic situation.

Last night I watched Hoop Dreams on Hulu. It’s about these kids.. coming out of the Ghettos.. in the 90s.. actually they’re like a year old then me.. and.. how they dream of being pro basketball players.. and how there talent.. and all the hard work they put in… helps win the scholarships.. but also just the rough-ness of there lives… and all they have to deal with.

I found myself identifying with it.. with the kids to some extent.. the parents.. this business of being so poor and how the whole world looks so different from the vantage point of this kind of poor… and I say this as someone who was once from the middle class.

Now if I can deal with my anxiety.. and kind.. of the part of me that can barley function in this world… I believe I’m capable of amazing things… but for now.. I’m in this kind of hellish cage of poverty.

It probably feels rougher to me then many.. for I’m someone who fell down here as a pose to started out here.. but really what pisses me off is the way the system works against me.. the way the laws work… because really.. I shouldn’t be here.. I should have a couple hundred grand in my pocket.

Well I don’t think about that too much… that’s not really where I’m at after all.

My hope is that this is an experience that leads me to where I need to be. Sometimes struggle can be good for you after all…

So this blog is really about.. this journey I’m making…..

It’s about.. pain… its about suffering.. it’s about finding you’re self in a dark place.. its about not knowing how you’ll ever carry on in this life, or even if it is worth it.. It’s about trying.. to fight up against all that, and through all that.

And I feel raped by the system… by life.

Feeling like that.. is.. something that… I guess makes me a little different from a lot of other people.. it gives you a sensitivity to the darkness of our world.. you’re not taken in by the.. propaganda the same way.

[editors note, this looks like not a half band post, think I'll publish]

Some work reflections

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One of the things I’m wrestling with is “what the hell is going on in my work.” Artists… we often take these giant jumps of intuition.. or perhaps flights of intuition…  we do things and we don’t know why… or.. you do a bunch of things.. you know why, but you have no idea of the bigger picture it’s leading towards or what is going on really.

Really what I think is happening is I’m “fighting my way through the basics:” On the one hand I’m super deluxe bad ass advanced… show me some of the best out there, I’ll show you how I can kick there ass.. one hand tied behind my back.

But.. but.. my incredible super human abilities… well.. I’ll let you in on a little secret… “they are very narrow.” What this means is.. inside of a narrow expressive range.. lets say… lets just use language this way even if it obscures certain things…. and because you’re really narrow.. it takes less time to master.. so you can be like mad master in a short span of time.. just cause you have this much more narrowly defined thing.

So that’s the deal, right? I’m a bad ass.. and I have this whole structure I created.. a structure of bad-ass-dom.

[editors note: what I'm trying to say is that my art represents various systems of narrowly defined ares.. that come together into a larger whole... this relative to skills, talent, whatever, and it's part of what allows to do such a broad spectrum of stuff]

And now.. what I’m doing…. is something different

Who do you want to be when you grow up?

That’s the fundamental question, I believe, we always need to be asking our selves… that is.. our own becoming.. .is the thing…. the important thing.. the thing about life that makes it worth living… the reason for getting up… so what are you becoming?

In a general sorta way I’ve gone through a number of phases… that all sorta seem recent… that are vaguely about “well we’re making electronic music, we should learn something about this.”

Like once upon a time I went out like an anarchist on my own personal journey… profoundly.. to worlds no one else had ever visited… I never even saw the well worn path of.. the way most folks go.. and now I’m sorta searching for the well worn path of… where folks are..

I’m taking this stuff.. these ideas… of.. well lets say the ideas of electronic music.. in a well worn sense..  and trying to bring them into my work.

When I kinda view what I’m doing through this lens.. I realize and understand all the struggling I’m going through… why the going is so slow.. cause I’m trying to climb such a steep hill… and I kinda don’t even want to acknowledge that there’s a hill there.

Once upon a time.. my biggest goal in a project was to “do something interesting.” Interesting… is… well usually it means you’re not trying to do what everybody else is dong.. you’re doing you’re own thing… or you’re finding novel solutions to problems or.. you’re just doing something unique.

As sooon as you start trying to do “what everybody else is doing” you have this really deep problem… and that is.. now it’s really obvious how to measure you.. you’re gong to be measured in how you stack up with everybody else.. .so suddenly.. it’s not about.. this inward voice pointing you in whatever duration… it’s how do you define you’re self as someone worth paying attention to.. in this over crowded room of people… in relationship to those other people.

So… here I am.. in my studio… working.. and.. the thing is.. some of the measuring sticks I’m using have to do with this crowded room situation… trying to work out how to move into that room… and do well in that room… but also.. fundamentally.. I don’t really believe that that room is really my room even… or what I’m about is not about how well I do in that room over there.

Here’s what I think… you gotta go into the crowded room… and you gotta do something there.. that attracts attention… and once you have attention… from whoever you get you’re attention from… that’s when you gotta prove you’re self as being… all that and a bag of chips.. or up to snuff or.. whatever it is you are.

Once you do that.. that’s when you have a real chance of developing a following.. or that’s what I’m thinking… and maybe you can get folks to follow you away from the well trodded ground.

And I guess it’s always about this tension.

What I’m dong now.. with this site.. this project.. all my ideas… is really doing something that’s super out there… so that once I go into the that room… that there will be this amazing trail… that people can follow…

[eitors note, this looks worth posting]

And the Art that Comes

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So.. I’ve been writing some dark as fuck posts… and.. I’m in a dark as fuck mood lately.. I have moments where there is… calm from the storm, put it that way.. but it’s like its still there I’m just sorta.. not thinking about it..

And it’s fucked up.. and hard.. and you want to apologize for it.. like it’s this incredibly difficult howling I seem to be doing.. at the moon…. I guess you can only call it a desperate call for help…. and it feels horrible to have that kinda cry..

And it feels really selfish… you know?

But its like.. your psyche is getting rocked to the ground.. and we’re all a little selfish.. I mean there’s a healthy level of selfishness to be had.. the trouble is.. I can sometimes be unhealthy in my lack of selfishness… if that quite makes sense.. and some how the rocking of the psyche.. forces the issue on me.

My art has started to turn into this exploration of this darkness. It makes a lot of sense that I do that..

There’s this kinda… I don’t know…

You know how.. there’s certain patterns you’ll see with folks who kill them selves? Or I think of this comic scene in Scanner Darkly.. where there’s a suicide attempt… and the attempt-e does all this work to make it all symbolically.. whatever.. or hell that scene in Heathers.. or whatever.. or scenes plural…

I mean.. it’s like our culture gives us certain ideas.. almost like a script.. that you’re to follow, should you want to off your self.

Well it’s not clear to me that what I’m sorta referring to as suicidal feelings.. in anyway lead to suicide or not.. or if really.. they might not be a kind of calling for this deep transformation.. that’s like a death and resurrection.. so that its really like a kind of spiritual suicide and not a literal one….

In any event… so there’s that script.. and there’s like “ok, lets say you’re going to kill you’re self, what would you put in your suicide note” or.. you know.. how would you do it?

So the art I’m making.. is that suicide note. That’s what’s really fucking creepy cause its like.. to the extent to which.. you could look at this as a task to release you’re self.. in some psychological sense.. from this earth.. like…  maybe if you’re suicidal, that’s not the time to work on you’re bucket list…  so it’s like.. just another step in that direction…

In all of this I’m following what Carl Jung did with his red book.. and I’m just… well this is the danger of the abyss here… of wrestling with the dark side of you’re being so deeply…

Victory in these battles.. means a kind of.. well it’s like Nietzschean superman kind of task, you know?

A few latter:

I feel like I’m some how fundamentally to lazy for the task at hand.

I’m gong to post this and work on a new post.

Exploring the Suicide Solution

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I’m going to try and write something about what I’m feeling… this will no doubt not be painful.. so just a warning up front.

The Pain

Its like this crack… this wound.. this.. coagulated blood of a scab that shoots through you’re psyche and fractures it… the fractures.. are like prisons… you’re forced to live inside of. Anxiety keeps you there.. Anxiety and depression and….

I feel like.. trying to go forward.. is there any way out… form the suffering. I feel in some way raped by life at this point. I mean such is my rage against my father’s guardian… and it doesn’t feel like there’s anyway out… like of life getting better.. there just isn’t a feeling of hope.. it feels like.. life just.. is not fucking for me…

Takes a Reflective Pause

I think I should be real clear about this.. what I’m trying to get at is something of the objective feeling of experience.. wait.. that doesn’t sound right… What I’m saying is.. when I look to the future.. inside of my consciousness.. inside of what I’m able to believe in.. what I see… is just more suffering. What I see is.. this feeling like.. all that pain I’ve ever had in my life… is just the way it’s always going to be. And in fact.. that its just going to get worse.

I feel like I was sold a bill of good by this Guardian.. and its turned to shit…

Ok… let me try and explain.

So I don’t have enough money to get my car that was towed.. I feel like this situation is some kind of ultimate sin of the system that it works this way.. that because I have my anxiety… these problems function.. I get pushed into this situation where.. .suddenly..  I have to start selling shit just get the fucking car out of the fucking thing.

It’s like… what have materially in this world? All I have.. is like some stuff to support my dreams.. and the situation is asking me to give up pieces of that..

It’s like.. you make some kind of deal with the world.. and now.. now the world is going back on that deal.. and you feel like.. well ok.. why should I play by you’re fucking rules any more.

Next Day sometime

Ok, I got more to post on this sorta subject…. bare with me

When the thread you hang on by breaks: Preambles to “exit ideation”

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Leaf of DeathSo I’ve chronicled the story… of.. well what has brought me to this place.

And then there’s what’s yet to be chronicled

Blue Hills Old 128: fallen treeI may have mentioned this.. but Wed, as a result of what happened.. I missed a therapist appointment and an appointment to see about getting a primary care physician which is sorta an extremely needed thing on account of the viscous state of my eczema.

Well.. Friday my friend Joy helped go out to see if the car might be there.. where I left it.. it was not, it was towed. She said she’d be hear early today but it’s creeping up on 4PM and still no word.. I figure the tow must have at least cost $100.. and then there’s however much it’s gong to cost to keep it in the lot per day.

I’m living on less then $100 a week at this point.. per month.. It’s now been something like 4 or 5 months in a row.. where the month ends in this kind of extreme position.. of not knowing how you’re going to eat.. or being about to even leave your house cause of the cost of gas… the hyper isolation…

So every month you get beaten down.. to the ground.. to the point where you don’t always fucking know who the fuck you’re kidding about this whole carrying on business… you never fucking get to stand up and just fucking feel like a normal fucking human being for fucking… just give me a little fucking time away from this fucking hell.

And now I know this month.. is going to be just another one in the series…

And I’m just watching as so many of my hopes seem to go down the drain

And fuck it, you know? Just fuck it… I’ve fucking had enough.

No, I’m not going to kill myself just.. but I feel that kinda pain..

Waking up

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Blue Hills Old 128: fallen treeI’ve pulled myself out of bed.. coffee’s on, though not yet ready. My neck and body stiff from so much time in bed and my legs are telling me “dude, why not stay in bed” and hell.. so is the rest of me.. and I feel as if I’m under the influence of some pain suppressant that has rendered my body numb…

I like the morning light though, seems like a nice day in store.

I’m so.. between sleep and waking life.. and where my body is at.. just not feeling capable of much… more then sitting here waiting for the coffee to be ready.

And my hands, from the eczema… hurt real bad.. a number of open wounds…

I still feel so tired.. but I figure I’ve been sleeping long enough.. On the other hand.. that could be the delusion of dreams talking.

Sir reality of night

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in the dark behind my houseI’m in supper sur-reality of night, waking in a dream.. tired of the light and.. aching for the other side of.. whatever the fuck it is.

I’ve slept most of the day away, or woke up part way through, only to fall back asleep, and now I rock back in forth in bed.. watching Blade Runner and wonder.. something.

My legs are so fucking soar and have no interest in baring weight…

Something echos from the past.. that feeling of going sleeping for a couple days after being up forever.. and the disorientation of the lateness of this hour.. feeling like early morning and you wonder if you live on a planet that doesn’t have days.

Or if it even is a planet upon which you lay.

Dream reality, dream reality, that’s what this is. Reality without reality, no earth, only phantom vapor, phenomenology of spirit.. spirit of earth… disassociated.

in the dark behind my house (2)Its a quest for a vacation from, whatever the hell it was you were dealing with the other day.. oh yeah.. you’re car is parked who knows where.. 9.6 miles away, who knows if it’s been towed by now.. and God knows.. how you’ll ever deal with that and that is all just so much that your mind doesn’t even bother to think of it.. like so much.

Maybe if I smoked some pot I’d think about it but instead I just dream of sleep.. and android sheep.