Monday, November 30, 2015

Neo-Femme Snowflake Journos on the Rampage (i.e. talking a lot)

There's another and I'm not interested enough to go back to find out who she was ... I want to see if I can go for a year without buying anything and only pay for food and bills, she says.

Tell you, what, Snow White, how about seriously considering going off for a year to fuck yourself.  She's yet another example of patronization and false compassion for profit from the miserable lives of the bourgeoisie.

Oh, by the way, do these jeans make my ass look fat.

Here's another one:  It’s simply harder to eat well when you are poor (yah, you guessed:  The Guardian)

Yah, it's so simple even those ghastly untouchables can figure it out.  So, honey chile, were you paid by the article or the word and, by the way, your ass does look fat.

No doubt it sounds like I have some desire to go gangland on these poser neo-femmes but they're only symptomatic of a society overall which just doesn't give a fuck ... and I couldn't care less about going gangland on that either.  Shooting them only brings more cops and the people who feign such empathic sensitivity pay for them.


The rain and some other things are dragging the trip into the mud a wee bit but always there's the hope of pulling it together to build the Sanctuary which, from your perspective, has only been words thus far.  There's some poofy romantic thought the Sanctuary should remain an Ideal which is approachable but impossible to attain because achieving that must mean there is another Sanctuary beyond ...

and that's when we say, put out the joint, Carlos Castaneda, you have smoked too much already.


There's a richness of experience in poverty which is impossible to understand unless you live it.  Cadillac Man is getting a glimmering of it from a different situation.  He's not at all broke but he's got a similar vista in getting a grip on ... man, you mean I really don't have to do anything unless I want to do it?

Yah, fo' real, my brutha!

In my case, there are things I would do if I had the money to do them, some things (not many) to buy, etc and that's constricting to some extent but a much wider view is I can play almost any time I feel like it and there is greater freedom to play any damn thing I want than has ever existed in my life.  There is much less equipment now but all of it here at this time is tightly-focused toward doing exactly the musical things I want in the way I want to do them.

Yesterday was some blather about a forty-foot swimming pool and another chunk of that money went for a pile of musical kit.  It was hugely-powerful, had a rack of synthesizers, and did all kinds of magic ... but ... it can't do what I do here now.  It was much louder but it wasn't at all close in sophistication. There's no need for a treatise on musical hardware evolution except to say it's changed in twenty years or so ... one hell of a lot.

Note:  I looked for the guy at Denny Heglin Music and the Mystery Lady may remember him.  I could not tell for sure but I sent a question to a guy ... did you once work, blah de blah.  We shall see what happens.

All the jibber jabber is because the vibe has to be right to let it rip for this song.  It would be a monumental crush to deem it complete ... and then second-guess it into oblivion.  It has to be blazing, not necessarily at screaming volume, as soon as it comes out of the gate.  No doubt I will always see mistakes in anything I do but there can't be any compromise or the whole thing is crap.

In this situation, I have that freedom and there's no possible way anything can buy that.  Don't tell the snowflake neo-femmes, it would only confuse them.


And a blather on this line once in a while:  insisting on only Socialist support was a total fail as you ignored that altogether by sending whatever you can and I appreciate it immensely.  It's immensely difficult to ask for anything and the best part of Christmas is when I don't.  I've done it this way before because there's no way you can be disappointed if your only expectation is to give stuff away.  Hence, screw the Castaneda dreams of Philosophical Ideals and make the song.

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