October 11, 2013. Frig of Freedom.

Home and my friends are still asleep in the next room. My ears are ringing from the shows last night, and I’m a little hung over. There’s a mostly empty bottle of Jack on my coffee table, a plate of mostly eaten grapes, some used shot glasses and an empty bottle of Stone IPA. Beside me to the left I can see my patio is covered in cigarette butts. It looks cold and rainy out. It’s 11:30a and I just woke up.

My friend’s band played excellently. They have a new keyboardest and rhythm guitar so now they’re a 5 piece. I grabbed some shots and videos from last night. Here’s the full band:

Here we are about 15 years ago, up in NH:

Good times.

You know, if I know that guy… let me just check on something…

Yep, they’re not actually in that room right now.

They always wake up so early, it’s weird and kind of amazing. They must have headed out while I was snoozers.

Here’s a video in case you’re curious what the music is like:

Maybe one more:

It’s rock, maybe a bit of 90’s style alternative here and there, but overall just really solid, groovy Rock ‘n Roll. Every time they play, people down here seem to really enjoy it. They did two nights on the Bowery a couple months ago, and last night was in Williamsburg where they had a good audience.

We took a cab back from the venue at around 1a, and stayed up talking here until 2-3a. A girl I’ve been dating came along for everything and she stayed over despite having to get up for work super early this morning. She’s small and thin with blond hair and green eyes, and she wore rocker clothes for the show, which was cool. I vaguely remember her leaving in the morning, but I was barely conscious.

I’ll be home most of the day today doing some work. It’s going to be nice. Big coffee on the way, and research to do. I’ll keep the tunes low because my right ear is ringing. The venue was small and the sound was huge, not a good combo for mammalian ear holes.

I will train later and I can’t wait. Nothing better than pushing yourself to the brink of collapsing after a night of drinking copious amounts of whiskey.

Talk soon,

Duck

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October 10, 2013. Morning with the street sweeper.

Morning, Monkeys.

I’m home, waiting for my friend from my hometown to arrive with his wife. They’ll get here around 1p and then we’ll go to check in for the CBGB festival. It’s a four day music festival, hundreds of bands across 120 venues around NYC. I’m really psyched that his band was booked for this, should be good exposure. We’ll go to check in at an office on Bowery and get our free passes (yay!) that will get us into any show for the next four days for free.

Then we’re free for the rest of the day until he has sound check at 7, and they play at 9p. Depending on how things go, we’ll either stay out really late or head back here and just crash. They leave tomorrow morning, and I took both days (today and tomorrow) off from work, and I’m looking forward to sitting here at my desk with big coffees and writing most of the day tomorrow.

It’s really amazing to see him play here in NYC because it reminds me of when we used to jam in his small, single story house outside my hometown so many year ago. I’m proud of him for making it work. For years he was relegated to a Cambodian wedding band, and now he’s in an alternative rock band that’s producing CDs and getting a fan base. It’s a great reminder of what’s possible if you stick with things.

Last night took all my shoes and boots out and polished them all. Black for the Limmers, and brown for the Limmer lights and a pair of very light boot/shoe things I got maybe three years ago with a girlfriend and her best friend. They were very light and thin, pretty comfortable usually. After adding polish they darkened up and the toes came to life and now they look better than new. Here’s the work table:

More coffee.

Back.

The new iPhone is great. I needed to upgrade my old one as its battery was checking out slowly, and I had badly damaged the screen, and it was slow and had limited memory capacity. The new one, a 5s, is a huge jump from the 4, so it’s been pretty fun getting stuff done faster. It has virtually no loading time, and as you can see it takes pretty good low light pictures. I haven’t tried most of its other features yet, but seems pretty good so far. You might see many more pictures and videos from me soon.

I have a big talk coming up that’s in the back of my mind. I should have started preparing a couple weeks ago, but that just wasn’t possible, so we’ll see how it goes. Stakes are slightly high because in the audience will be a few members of a group I’m newly affiliated with, and I’m eager to have them know of my capabilities. Whatever the fuck that means.

Training after class last night was rough. I decided ahead of time I would go in no matter what, because sometimes that’s what it takes. So even after heading out for some beers with a couple faculty and grad students, I went back to the office, changed up, and went in. Training with alcohol in your blood sucks. I burned out much faster than I should have. But it was still good to get pumped up. I’ll head in again tomorrow, no doubt with more booze in my blood from what is sure to happen tonight. Training heavy squats.

Vascularity isn’t a constant thing, you really have to work super heavy and force the muscles to grow to support what you’re requiring of them. There is a danger that if you go ultra heavy you’ll grow too much. What you want for fighting or anything truly athletic is super strength and density, rather than size, because otherwise you’ll slow way down. I’m probably getting a little too inflated lately, but it’s a quick fix: add miles to your runs and reduce your calories.

So that’s all for now. I’ll post some pictures of the show up tomorrow, I bet.

Enjoy Thor’s Day.

 

 

 

 

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October 9, 2013. Run around.

Weak update today. I’m overbooked and scrambling.

Good reading group, no training last night. Will try to hit today. Class tonight followed by the usual catching up with people afterwards. My friend from my hometown comes tomorrow and I took the day off. A little jammed up. Not a good time to take the day, but priorities.

Hope you have a great day.

 

 

 

 

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October 8, 2013. Other worldly sleeping.

Had my reading group towards the end of the day yesterday, and afterwords I headed home quickly, excited for jam. We had KE on sax, AP on bass, AS on drums, RG on lead/rhythm and same with me. It didn’t take us long to find some good stuff and time flew by.

I had earlier rearranged the living room to accommodate the giant bookshelf I brought up from my advisor’s old office. The thing has worked out nicely, it’s basically a giant wall, now creating a kind of hallway leading into the living room. I moved the standing computer over near the balcony doors, onto a small desk there. Because of that move, I couldn’t play through Logic into the receiver, so instead ran some RCA cables out to the Rokit 8’s, and it was killer.

I was surprised by the arrival of a friend, a drummer, who was told we had a drummer for the session already. The guy was really undependable, always canceling late in the day, leaving us sometimes having to play only with Logic loops. So we have a new guy, really excellent, who’s starting to come more frequently, and most importantly, when he says he’ll come, he comes. Anyway, the other guy came too, and I wasn’t sure what would happen when the other drummer arrived. As he started to set up the kit, he accidentally knocked a glass framed poster of mine, a beloved print of HR Giger’s Alien from 1992 “Necronom IV”, over on its side. It shattered and it was upsetting, but those things happen. I consoled him. The poster itself seems OK, and that’s most important.

Next, the sax player opened a beer that virtually exploded in his hand, all over the floor and against some books. UGH. That’s two.

About an hour in as we hit some nice stuff, MY SOUND CUT OUT. Turns out the Rokits can’t handle the hot signal straight, and I probably blew a fuse. Three. UGH.

Once we finished and were doing our usual wrap up chat, my friend who’s been staying over while here on a work trip returned from some meetings at the UN. He joined the conversation and we all had a good time talking. He started telling some stories about adventures we’ve had in other parts of the world and it was nice to hear how he describes things.

“And this one time Duck and I were in Burkina Faso and the Gendarmerie Nationale took us in because they thought he was foreign military.

“Stop lying!” the General yelled, and Duck says to him, “If this is how you treat all your visitors no one will ever want to come here.” And the General yelled: “Why are you here!?” And Duck says “Obviously not for the hospitality.” To myself I was like, oh god, here we go. Please don’t get us killed, please don’t get us killed. Then Duck goes, “Look in my bag, look in my pockets, do you see anything that looks suspicious? Here’s my passport, here’s my phone.” And the General says: “Take off your shirt!” and Duck goes “You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?” and the General looked like he was about to behead him, and I honestly thought that was it for both of us. But then amazingly he smiled and started laughing, and says “Take it off!” and Duck goes, “OK but I smell really bad…” and the general goes: “No! No! Keep it on! Keep it on!” and I couldn’t believe it. They let us go and didn’t even take our money or anything.”

Seems like another life, or a lifetime ago. I miss those days so much, it drives me to keep pushing the NYC adventure as hard as possible.

My experience here pales in many ways, and in others is even more extreme.

Anyway, we chatted until my friend passed out and I showered off the day, swimming in memories of foreign adventures. I was really glad he came to stay for a while. He’ll be back in 3 weeks, and then I likely will not see him until I’m next over there in the Motherland.

Budapest coming up, and the Balkins after that.

I needed new dress shoes for work as I’ve entered some new circles in which that kind of thing is more important, unfortunately. These were really comfortable and I like the structure, for the first time ever. So it turns out there exist dress shoes I don’t want to burn in a furnace of hate.

What do you think?

 

And you must be dying to see the other side at this point, right?

Eh…  viola!

The leather is really excellent, they have a nice solid feel, while being supple, too. When you walk in them, it makes a grinding sound, like walking on snow, as the leather moves around. I can live with these. They look good with grey pants, and as I’ve learned today, jeans too. New universals? Hardly. But it is nice to have something besides Limmers when needed, which might be more frequently now that I’m moving up a bit.

With the cold evening last night, my sleep was excellent, deep and luxurious. I was so comfortable the whole night, I didn’t wake up once. I woke up less sore than expected, so I’m ready to train heavy again tonight. I woke up in my best natural state– fists clenched, hard dick, ready to explode, muffling myself as much as possible as I confront another day in the fuckedness of time.

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October 7, 2013. Moodaeg free breakies.

Just made it back to my desk after a long meeting with some Hungarians. I got the contract and will be headed to Budapest in a couple weeks for a training. Can’t wait.

I came back from the cafe we met at to find free breakfast being offered by the office across the hall. Sweet. Unlimited scrambled eggs, bacon, blueberry muffins. Mondaeg ain’t so bad.

I read over my post yesterday. What an incoherent mess. I should probably at least edit things before I press the publish button. But that’s not what Obsidian Noise is about. I basically sit down and record whatever’s on my mind at that moment. And that’s all. There are no drafts, or revisions or whatever. That would be a different kind of project. ON is really a staging ground– some of the things I empty out here end up taking another form later. Often they don’t, and it’s just a record. Two straight years of it, this month.

I finally got myself off the board of the building I live in, so now I’m absolved of those responsibilities. That’s nice.

My friend and I have gone in on a rehearsal space in Brooklyn. All the guitar gear is going to be moved down there, so I’ll soon have a big, empty living room, the way I like it. The space is perfect for rehearsing and maybe recording. Concrete shell, wood floor, sound proof walls, minifridge, bathroom, pullout couch. It’s big enough for 4-5 musicians if you use a drum kit. 5-6 if you don’t.

I plan on using it as a crash space for guests sometimes, too. It’s only about 15 minutes on a convenient train back into Manhattan. I feel good about it.  There’s no shower in there, but there is one on the floor which is shared. Most of the other units in the building are art studios, maybe one other music studio, I was told.

I had excellent training and it made me feel much better. I was pulling 405lbs off the floor for 6-8 reps and today my upper back and neck feel pumped and awesome. My lower back is the strongest it’s ever been. After my back injury I never thought I’d ever deadlift or power clean again, and now I’m going heavier than I ever had before. All good.

Dang, need to run to a skype call in another building.

Thanks for checkin in, and hope your Mondraggle is good– fall is wanting to fully arrive.

Duck

 

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October 6, 2013. Rainy Sunday.

There’s a fine mist today, life in a cloud. My balcony door is open and wearing shorts and The Perfect Hoody has made it perfect. Or is it.

Time passes. It strikes me sometimes. I try to avoid routine, but how possible is that, really. The routine of myself is stronger than whatever activity decisions I might make. If I force something new on whatever situation I’m in– let’s say it’s a day like today–I can force a new experience, but ultimately does it matter to me?

I could leave my desk here and head out to some neighborhood someplace, and look at stuff, and think about stuff, and maybe sit down in some coffee shop and write some stuff. But does any of that really change the routine of myself, my attitudes and concerns, my feelings and thoughts, my desires or interests? I’m beginning to feel like any of those potentially interesting changes are a kind of self-gratifying illusion– an illusion that I do have perfect control over my ability to live a fulfilling and satisfying life. How important is my will to action in what ultimately ends up happening to me.

I feel untamable every day. I want to exert and influence things around me. But the illusion of ever having some kind of control over things that happen around or to me is becoming clearer. Time passes and I wonder what I am really doing.

When I fight someone, it feels good. I like picking people up and dumping them on their heads, or knocking them to the ground. I like to shake hands afterward and let them know how appreciative I am of their shared interest. I feel a kinship when fighting that doesn’t exist in any other realm in my life. It seems to have something to do with the idea of “truth”. There’s truth in the ground, never an illusion. There’s truth in getting punched in the face, and an opponent is sharing with me certain truths about my own skills and awarenesses and confidences. The same phenomenon is likely why I’m sexual. The give and take, to a degree the control and interaction, the emotional-physicality of the whole thing is the truth, and I’m drawn to it. It seems lacking in nearly every other aspect of my life. Fighting and sex are both acts of expression and receptivity to expression. When I say receptivity, I’m not talking just about receiving the expression of another person, but equally the receptivity experienced in expressing truth– in other words, the being receptive to one’s own expressions, as they are received and responded to by others. Maybe “self-acceptance” is a better word for this kind self-receptivity.

Sometimes I wake up with my fists clenched and I just want to destroy my environment. That’s an expression. Sometimes I want to knock an opponent across the cage in such a way that they will not get back up. Sometimes I want to so thoroughly deplete the person in my bed that they can do little else but smile dazedly until they fall asleep, no showering off at all. That’s the world I make, and need and often miss. And it’s hard for me because that’s not the way the world is. I don’t fit in here, usually. I can stay adaptable, and I’ve had to in order to survive an overpopulated community like NYC, but it tires me out, literally drained by way of restraint and forced detachment. It doesn’t feel healthy to me, but what choice do I really have besides returning deeply to the woods.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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October 4, 2013. Frig.

Busy race around. Headed straight home after training last night and suddenly it was after midnight. Damn. Didn’t finish even half of what I wanted/needed to, including cleaning up the kitchen a bit before my friend and his mom arrive. The kitchen is full of bottles from jam night. Looks like a frat house. Have just been too busy.

Woke up and raced into work for my 9a, led to a 10a internal, then in the same place an 11a with a client, then a bday lunch for a coworker, and now I’m on my way to a 2p that I’m late for, followed by a 3:30p that’ll go to 4:30. I have a 5p meet up with two colleagues to talk about Epictetus, and then at 7p my friend and his mom are arriving to crash. I didn’t finish cleaning out the garbage in the kitchen and the place is far from ready for guests. Damn. Just not enough time.

It’s hazy and 85 out. Feels even hotter. It’s fucked up. It’s Oct. 4 and 85 out. Feels unhealthy, maybe even deadly. The whole city seems off today. I feel like smoking. I wish I had this weekend to myself.

But training last night was good. I went heavy and I could feel my muscles inflate, hungrily. By the time I was done I had probably lost a couple liters of water, and my veins were pulsing around my body, wrapping me with their intensities, reminding me who I am. Without training myself to exhaustion as often as I can, I would be dead a thousand times over already.

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October 3, 2013. Thor’s in early October.

Great class last night. I never explained what that’s all about. Here’s the skinny version.

My advisor used to teach a highly influential course on the history of communication. It involves studying the great transformations that took place upon and cascading from the introduction of new communication technologies throughout history. The course begins, usually, in ancient Greece. We read the Iliad, and for many people it’s not their first time through. But in this course we read it not to learn about the characters or the myths or to study the literature itself. We read it in order to find some potentially helpful reference points that can help us understand some of the particularities of the culture and society from which the story comes. The Iliad is an example of what’s called an “Oral Epic”, or also “oral epic poetry”. The reason it’s a good starting point is because it comes from pre-literate society. It’s hard for us to imagine what communication between and amongst people was like prior to the invention of the alphabet. We can only surmise what some of the attributes of communication was like when every thought, idea and story was communicated orally.

In a pre-literate society, how do the individuals of that place know who they are? How do they make progress if every generation leaves nothing but example behaviors, and no descriptions of the value of those behaviors (and techniques and values and so on)? The role of the epic poem has been described as serving in part as a kind of cultural encyclopedia. When the story teller would come to your village, and everyone would gather around for three days to hear the epic tale of men and gods that explain why things are the way they are, it was in that moment that people got a sense of who they were. We are Athenian. We are Thebesian, we are “Greek”, etc. We value these things, and we don’t value those things. We respect these attributes of people, and not those. These are the things “we” believe in, etc.

So it’s interesting to read this transcribed version of the Iliad with orality in mind. There are reasons why certain things are included, and it has to do with that cultural preservation and storehouse of accumulated and collective knowledge necessary for advancement as a people. The epic oral poem was a device. It just happened to be one of the only modes available.

So we read it to identity those aspects of the poem that might serve a purpose, and what they imply for society at that time.

We then read the Greek Tragedies, or a couple of them anyway, usually The Oresteia. The reason to do this next is because these were amongst the first wholly written stories… ever. The plays in The Oresteia were born on paper by Aeschylus. If we read them carefully, we can again identify attributes of the story that might have some explanatory power about what the shift from oral to literate culture created out of society. In The Orestiea we start to see characters trying to figure out best solutions to difficult problems, and often by talking with each other (and with the gods). Contrasted to the Iliad where many of those decisions, such as what was right and what was wrong, or just and unjust, came directly either by the gods or by stories about things gods had said, in The Oresteia we begin to see people questioning “justice” and deliberating rather than merely mimicking.

Something happened when the written word was created. It’s impossible for us to really know in what ways this transformation impacted individuals of the time, but if we try to imagine what it was like, for the the first time, to have your inner dialogue– your thoughts– able to be taken out of your head and put on an object outside of you. Once your inner thoughts and understandings are outside of you, yet preserved, interesting possibilities arise. You can consider the thought you had in a more objective way– your thought is literally now a kind of object that can be studied. Your words can be rearranged and altered. You can pass your words along to others for consideration, and review. The impact had profound effects on society at that time and forevermore.

Next in the course we continue reading these plays, moving forward in time, and we look for evidences of other changes occurring in the styling and writing. New techniques for communicating various things are born. The use of a “chorus” in each play as a way of narrating what the characters might be feeling and thinking becomes a tool, and with each passing generation that tool gets used in slightly different ways. For example, originally the chorus was almost a god-like voice operating outside of the story, helping the audience really connect empathically with the story itself. But later plays have the chorus, sometimes representing society itself, actually interacting with the characters of the play, able to influence outcomes. This was the case when Creon decides against his original plan of burying Antigone to death because of her insistence on properly burying her warrior brother. It was the chorus, in part, who persuaded Creon that the family honor she was attempting to preserve was in itself an honorable thing, and punishing her for it was, in fact, the wrong thing. It was a representation of society challenging the ruler, influencing scenarios.

That’s about where we are now. The next texts are different completely. They’re no longer plays and stories at all, but rather narrations and descriptions being written for that purpose– to narrate and describe (rather than to entertain as surely was the case for the tragedies). So we read Herodotus for next week, a writer credited with being the first historian. From there up to Plato and the introduction of “logic” in argument– again, all possible only because of the written word, and the progress that was made in using the written word in new and different ways after its inception.

So far, these transformations all have to do with the great transformation from oral to literate society. The next great transformation we look at is massive scale reproduction of texts, as occurred after the printing press was invented, which again permanently and severely altered just about everything in the human world forever, resulting in such unimaginable things as the invention of the “nation”, a construct we still have and use today, and something that simply couldn’t have happened without a common text, such as common news, to build a sense of shared identity amongst large groups of people– and that was only possible with the invention of printing.

The course then goes through the various more modern advancements– the telegraph and instantaneous transmission worldwide, then radio and TV, and finishes with our extended present, the age of the internet. We try to use our understandings and theories of prior great transformations to help us guide and stay wary of unintended negative consequences of our new instantaneities in information production and consumption.

So it’s fun. I might teach this course in a year or two (I have taken it twice and TA’d it once).

Last night after class we had some drinks with the professor, my advisor’s advisor, and then I headed home. One of the other TA’s, a brilliant young writer and drummer in our jam band, crashed. We talked for a bit before turning in and it was great.

Today I’ve had my hands full, but it’s been a good day. I will train in about 5 minutes and then head home to clean up my place. One of my close friends and his mom are flying in from Africa tomorrow and the two will stay over Friday night. Saturday morning his mom flies back to Kentucky, and my friend will stay until Tuesday. When he leaves, my professional metal guitarist friend will come and stay for a couple weeks so we can write some kick ass shit and put the demo together for our new project, tentatively named “Sunken”.

I’ll have to tread carefully while writing music while he’s around because I do have my hands too full already. But there’s just no way I can pass this opportunity up to collaborate like this and hopefully play some live, ultra heavy, epic shows later next Spring.

That’s all for now. Best to my monkeyholes.

Duck

 

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October 2, 2013. The other side of the table.

I’m interviewing someone on camera today. Should be great. Here in the studio now, all dressed up, feeling fake and lame. I have new black shoes which were the only semi-tolerable kind I could find.

Update later.

 

 

 

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