Sunday, July 5, 2009
In the meantime, I must ensure all the albums on my iTouch have the correct artwork. This is a matter of critical importance. I may lose sleep. I am playing at sarcasm here, but I am layering it too thick because it is sarcastic sarcasm. I may actually lose sleep. These are two problems: a) my tendency to layer the funny to the point where it isn't funny; and b) the losing of sleep.
The orchestral nonsense reflects the character's epiphany. The piano rock is because the epiphany must be followed by song and dance. The piano rock has a long way to come. The bass line must be swapped out for a live track. The lyrics have yet to be finalized. The melody is even sketched at this point, not finalized either.
Even though so much of it remains unfinished, it feels awful good to be working on one of my burning obsessions for actual credit.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
That made me laugh. Saw it linked by gwenners via Twitter.
Fireworks crackle outside my window. I massage Renoise into compliance. Stop bleeding harmonics into every other range, silly piano arpeggios! Out comes the EQ panel to regulate you.
What's this on the White House lawn? Foo Fighters? Alas, I am distracted once again. Back to work!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Really, it's some sort of freak miracle that I didn't die in a pileup on the turnpike on the way to my exams. It's even more of a freak miracle that I didn't die hours later on the way back when the turnpike was jammed with a honking swarm of metal and plastic.
If I were an actuary selling myself life insurance, I would include a clause about not paying a dime if I fall asleep doing fifty in a Corolla. Because, really, I've had more honest brushes with death due to the combination of cars and sleep deprivation than due to anything else. It's stupid and ridiculous and irresponsible and all sorts of idiocy and also self-inflicted which is the alienating bow on top. (cue a high bell ringing clear and long) Ding! Emo done, go to sleep.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Come and participate, they say. Share with us your pretension. Share with us your self-sabotage and your quirk.
You know not what you ask, I say. Loose this demon and know regret. Revulsion shall ensue. Divert the elderly attention. Hide your sons and daughters. Ready the blinders and kill the volume. They'll never know what hit them.
It occurs to me I do more than hammer cheesy triads. It occurs to me to conceal this thought; dedication is uncool. The fact remains: I love to rip off The Bach. The fact remains: procrastination is my greatest skill.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
In other news, the musical is getting off the ground. I've song sketches for everything and the lyrics are coming. My project method is coming into focus thanks to my Capstone course which forces me to maintain structured tiers and milestones.
However, my other courses are falling behind at an alarming pace. I fear I am setting myself up for another psychotic week of unsleeping exhaustion and hackery. This is, of course, my way. Procrastination is not just a bad habit; it's a philosophy.