I've wrestled with myself the past few days on whether I should disclose the things I do in the next three weeks to the internet for all to read. I decided that since I'm starting at pretty much rock bottom, the only people who will be reading this will only be my close friends and family. Yet I will learn to keep at least a little bit of what I do sacred and secret-- not exactly for the sake of being mysterious. I just find that if an artist speaks excessively about himself and the things he does, the listeners will lose interest. So I shall be concise.
I'm in Tucson.
At the moment I sit in front of a shiny Mac computer next to state of le' art monitor speakers, a Mackie interface that looks more expensive than I am, a super sexy sound booth, and a bunch of various instruments of which I can play all of them intermediately well.
I have five songs in my mind, and three weeks to express them thoroughly. Today was day 1/2.
Tomorrow is technically Day One.
As I have been up since six thirty in the morning thanks to an untimely call from my father this morning who was extremely excited for me and wanted to make sure I didn't over sleep my nine thirty flight, I am extremely tired. I'll make sure to post pictures of the studio up here every once in a while. I shall definitely keep you, oh gracious reader, updated on the happenings of these next three weeks.
Forever (Except sometimes) your's,
Isaac
Sunday, July 31
Monday, July 18
Conclusion
I've been tired lately. Tired and Disinterested. I suppose that might be out of character.
I finished the one book that I never thought I could. The Lord of the Rings. July 16, 2011. At a coffee shop down by the square. A place that I will now always remember. I don't suppose that's too terribly sentimental of me, to keep track of the places that I finish favorite books. It's just that this has been my favorite book since the Seventh Grade. It's always been a sort of box that I've never completely opened all of the way. The expectation of what might be inside had been so engraved in me over the years that I have actually lost some of myself after turning the last page. And yet the box did not disappoint. All that I had ever hoped to be inside of it was indeed there to be found, along with more resolution and warmth than I had ever expected. I have lost a bit of myself. Yet upon losing myself, I also gained a certain beautiful tale to inhabit the small corridors of my mind and fill it with lasting significance and perhaps even a little wisdom.
On top of this, I watched the conclusion of the Harry Potter series. This was also a point of great momentum. One always knows how stories like these are bound to end. Yet even while the screen turns black and the lights come up, there is always a longing for the story to continue, just so that one can spend more time with the people that in some odd way matter in one's life.
These stories are important to me, and I have a few reasons why. But I don't want to bore you.
After finishing Lord of the Rings, everything else in the literary world pales in comparison. It's almost as if I don't want to read anymore.
I finished the one book that I never thought I could. The Lord of the Rings. July 16, 2011. At a coffee shop down by the square. A place that I will now always remember. I don't suppose that's too terribly sentimental of me, to keep track of the places that I finish favorite books. It's just that this has been my favorite book since the Seventh Grade. It's always been a sort of box that I've never completely opened all of the way. The expectation of what might be inside had been so engraved in me over the years that I have actually lost some of myself after turning the last page. And yet the box did not disappoint. All that I had ever hoped to be inside of it was indeed there to be found, along with more resolution and warmth than I had ever expected. I have lost a bit of myself. Yet upon losing myself, I also gained a certain beautiful tale to inhabit the small corridors of my mind and fill it with lasting significance and perhaps even a little wisdom.
On top of this, I watched the conclusion of the Harry Potter series. This was also a point of great momentum. One always knows how stories like these are bound to end. Yet even while the screen turns black and the lights come up, there is always a longing for the story to continue, just so that one can spend more time with the people that in some odd way matter in one's life.
These stories are important to me, and I have a few reasons why. But I don't want to bore you.
After finishing Lord of the Rings, everything else in the literary world pales in comparison. It's almost as if I don't want to read anymore.
Thursday, July 14
And At Once I Knew I'm Not Magnificent
Recently, I have been acquainted with Criticism.
In these last couple weeks, pretty much my entire being has been fair grounds for certain individuals to wash their ill opinions over. My scrawniness, my apparent quirkiness, my supposedly wide-eyed view of life, my feminine nature (something quite misunderstood). At least, these were things that I have been accused of, and have thus been criticized over.
Another friend felt it to be a great idea to criticize my musicianship, uttering that I "wasn't a real musician," of which I agree with to a small extent.
At first I took offense. But then I took it into account that this is perhaps how Americans, or yet everyone outside of Binimea, have been brought up to act-- to find traits about a person that might be considered abnormal and to make a joke out of them. I can't say that I like this method of living, but to an extent it isn't their fault. To be brought up in a place where criticism was a part of life, I think it would be very hard to be untouched by it. And at the same time, I have been away from such "friendly" notions all of my life, so have grown soft, and things people say mean more to me than what most would expect, I guess.
All this to say, I am not resorting to the internet for some petty attention to my "unacquainted sufferings," but rather desire to reiterate the ideas of Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller.
He talks about the metaphor of the Life boat, where everyone is born into this setting where the main goal is to not be thrown off of it. One can acquire this simply by proving their validity as a human being to everyone around them. This can be accomplished simply by being really good at something, and then making sure people acknowledge you for it, to make sure that everyone has a good opinion of what you do. Example: In the states, apparently it's a big deal if you're really muscular. So let's say I'm muscular. I could be terrible with words and not be able to cary a tune, but that stuff doesn't matter. As long as I'm muscular and people see me as the really strong guy, I can stay in the Life Boat. I'm valid.
I despise this system.
Everyone has their own ideas of what is good and bad or ugly and beautiful, based upon their own speculation in their own life experience. But that's just it-- Speculation. Everyone is screwed up, everyone is crappy. So how can their opinion be more valid than the other's? Yet we play up each other's opinions to the point that our entire lives are centered upon if someone has a good opinion of what we do, so that we can find some sort of validity in what we do.
It's nonsense. And I don't want to live this way.
Also to say, no, I am not magnificent. Maybe people speak truth when they say I'm scrawny, both inside and out, and maybe people have some validity in their opinion when they say I'm not a credible musician. But it is a definite evil for one to have the audacity to voice their opinions to one's face, believing that they are speaking complete and valid truths about the universe.
I leave July 27 for Tucson to record my EP with Ben Dunn.
I need to stop being with people and start spending the day in my house with my music. Music has no opinions of what I do.
Joking.
Isaac
In these last couple weeks, pretty much my entire being has been fair grounds for certain individuals to wash their ill opinions over. My scrawniness, my apparent quirkiness, my supposedly wide-eyed view of life, my feminine nature (something quite misunderstood). At least, these were things that I have been accused of, and have thus been criticized over.
Another friend felt it to be a great idea to criticize my musicianship, uttering that I "wasn't a real musician," of which I agree with to a small extent.
At first I took offense. But then I took it into account that this is perhaps how Americans, or yet everyone outside of Binimea, have been brought up to act-- to find traits about a person that might be considered abnormal and to make a joke out of them. I can't say that I like this method of living, but to an extent it isn't their fault. To be brought up in a place where criticism was a part of life, I think it would be very hard to be untouched by it. And at the same time, I have been away from such "friendly" notions all of my life, so have grown soft, and things people say mean more to me than what most would expect, I guess.
All this to say, I am not resorting to the internet for some petty attention to my "unacquainted sufferings," but rather desire to reiterate the ideas of Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller.
He talks about the metaphor of the Life boat, where everyone is born into this setting where the main goal is to not be thrown off of it. One can acquire this simply by proving their validity as a human being to everyone around them. This can be accomplished simply by being really good at something, and then making sure people acknowledge you for it, to make sure that everyone has a good opinion of what you do. Example: In the states, apparently it's a big deal if you're really muscular. So let's say I'm muscular. I could be terrible with words and not be able to cary a tune, but that stuff doesn't matter. As long as I'm muscular and people see me as the really strong guy, I can stay in the Life Boat. I'm valid.
I despise this system.
Everyone has their own ideas of what is good and bad or ugly and beautiful, based upon their own speculation in their own life experience. But that's just it-- Speculation. Everyone is screwed up, everyone is crappy. So how can their opinion be more valid than the other's? Yet we play up each other's opinions to the point that our entire lives are centered upon if someone has a good opinion of what we do, so that we can find some sort of validity in what we do.
It's nonsense. And I don't want to live this way.
Also to say, no, I am not magnificent. Maybe people speak truth when they say I'm scrawny, both inside and out, and maybe people have some validity in their opinion when they say I'm not a credible musician. But it is a definite evil for one to have the audacity to voice their opinions to one's face, believing that they are speaking complete and valid truths about the universe.
I leave July 27 for Tucson to record my EP with Ben Dunn.
I need to stop being with people and start spending the day in my house with my music. Music has no opinions of what I do.
Joking.
Isaac
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