Friday, 10 January 2020

Exeunt The Professor on the Drum Kit

I arranged books and eventually buckets to resemble his set and learned much further down the line that he'd once done similarly at the same age. First concert ever and then four years later from front row glory the best live performance to which I've ever been fortunate to bear such intimate witness.

beneath the shadow 't's crossed my heart
play sticks betwixt 's subdivided part
behind the leash beasts he once fear't
a name pronounced Neil Ellwood Peart

Wednesday, 1 January 2020

Happy Hindsight!

It's sure to be sharp in its certainty, more hard-headed and for that littler yielding than our prophesies. For still subjective come the causes of your yesterdays.

Wednesday, 25 December 2019

Benito Jewliani

I dunno if he'd ever tell Donny to shut the fuck up, but he sure as shit don't fucking roll on shomer Shabbos.

Click it for context.

Sunday, 22 December 2019

Harper's Bizarre Consumer Price Index

1,460 or 5,844 to 18,926 or 23,741.25. The number of commuted days before the passenger realizes that each one of them was the dream of living after the successful suicide of the evening before.

The subway has its attention vacuumed into an aspect not seen in the adverts, for it is not happiness or sadness or contentment or confusion but a blank stare not witnessed by itself, unwitting but not unknown, wherever two or three are gathered in the name of whiling time upon a threshold subsidized by its own labor and whose gross goods recharge the reigning title of consumer protection.

First do no harm. An axiom formally born of humility is here adapted to the patent admission of the limit of alleviation relative a collective acquiescence to the pyramidal pecking order. One order under another, it's regular acceptance of brilliant minds under the influence of empathy, it shaves away at their resident dreams daily, fueling the process whose nightly execution might be the lonely station where responsibility is taken for the resulting projection of hollowness.

First do no harm. At first, a relief, it was not long before it got depressing. But we've come too far to give in to depression even in the face of the death of conceivable optimism. With any luck whatsoever, we may balance the throwing up of our hands not with our washing them of our shortcomings, but...

I don't embed the image to afflict, or suggest a solution, but to exorcise my own liability, limited as it may be according to our own account. No such stroke of luck is evident in doing no harm that cannot expunge its numbers from the books or cause the cause to go unregistered. Illness is what it generates at both ends, perpetual in the present perfect term of the twisted mind.

This tube I'm surfing is not a mine whose walls are of an element that would power its commuters to the next stop, let alone to work in the Congo, but it is happening now, an ever-present dynamic, no one free of its influence, which is anything but empathetic.

Within a structure such as this, no matter how empowered, one can point up and kick down because public liability is limited and shareholder value knows no harm. Someone said sin has a price. The chart says it's stable. Science says it's rising. People say the price is good. People say the price is bad. I am of the people. My ability to harm is under control, as is my empathy, neither of which do a deal of good. But neither does a depressing admission of a crushing defeat. Unless it's in good company. Seize the day!

Thursday, 12 December 2019

Sentence for an Influence

Wherever you hear of betrayal of the nation to foreign powers and foreign influence up to and including the solicitation of foreign interference and foreign manipulation of a domestic election for personal political gain, replace "foreign" with "corporate" and know that whether or not anyone is above the law or whether or not any of that is precisely what something called "the founding fathers" were afraid of, legal is the lie that is lobbying, and so quaint the concept of quid pro quo, which makes infidelity to the hallowed institution of democracy central to article I.

Thursday, 28 November 2019

Ganks Thieving

Raiders harvested
the Jamestown massacre, quoth
Wikipedia

Saturday, 23 November 2019

It will come back to you.

On a counta recent activities, I've been netted by the audiophiliac-ical algorithm, nearly snared re. external (i.e. extra i.e not the (relatively) shittier version already provided) digital-to-analog converter-ism, and but for one audiophile's eventual graphing of the diminishing of returns in the matter of discernible hi-fidelity improvement as it relates to something like million dollar speakers versus gazillion dollar speakers, I'dn't've sussed that the improvement I'd just made which landed me in this spinner's web was the largest available along the chain of consumerist obsessions, i.e. the optimal appreciable aesthetic aspect -to- gross domesticated crass commercialized concern ratio had already been achieved.

Leaving aside the value of analog in general, — which is indeed the only way for our ears to hear its cut-out counterpart from the digital realm, which might lead one to wonder how one could deny what will always remain the inherent superior nature of our analog world (along with the not-all things-are equal aspects of digital, e.g. sample size and such — the compact disc quality file bit rate compared to that within the range of the mp3 represents in my lifetime's experience the biggest gaping hole in what had been least beneficial about digital technology: suffering tin-level resonance for the sake of saving space, or being able to cart your crappy crap around with you wherever you go with your twenty/twenty-first century's self.

In summary, it's back to the big file for me, not for cramming it in my ears mobility, but, yes, the space saving thing as well as the potential to schlep a terabyte in less than a trip if necessary. And the difference between Steely Dan at 320 thingies per second and 1411 of the same, via the same (relatively) shitty digital-to-analog converter inside ye ole computer device and from the same (relatively) shitty computer audio boosting boxes is like moving from the dark night of the soul to the formally known joys of daylight.

The betitled hat-tip is to BLCKDGRD, whose creation below, when-upon so clicked, links to the creation that scrolls to the song that led to the listening session that provided the preceding. God bless the Goog's Corps for reminding me that the artists' or their owner's access denial to my resident land verifies as well the virtue of the maintenance of (relative) material possession. It doesn't just sound better, but it's here.

2019 Nov 22 C by BLCKDGRD's JP