The Spring That Wasn't

So, as my last post was more than six months ago I'm officially not a blogger rather I'm an autocratic spinner of personal propoganda, who speaks with the public only when he's feeling unloved and out of toutch (very different from your loyal, die-hard knee-top pugilist.)

Anyway, so I'm pleased the summer's here, such as it is, and I'm telling myself sweet nothings about becoming productive with my new laptop(no courses for now, though I've undertaking 'Tomatis Method" lessons, also known as "Singing with the ear.") I returned from another round of therapy; it got the job done in that I don't hate myself or others now, yet I know now how hard it is to maintain good contact with those in your life. When you're in therapy, your soul is exposed to others, and they pick it clean until it shines again. I learned that you never love someone more than when you're lost in self-pity. However, there's no limit to people's generosity, and anyone who you feel hates you or is closed can be opened up so you can know them as your own mother.

Here where I live the summer isn't really a summer, instead the balmy weather is made up of people's remaining spring regrets, jelousies and self-loathings. However, for the first time as long as I can remember, there is a new swampy sort of life in the air, whereas before there was only the still-life of the electric busses or revolving-door clothing-runs downtown. People are complaining everywhere you turn, but there is a public awareness, its taking precidence over the old mantra of silence and order. People are expressing their anger in public, at overcrowded busses, over an apparently growing homeless problem (nonewithstanding the efforts of the police to transparencise poverty.)

Still, no radical changes afoot, everything is as normal, new transport routes and an overreliance on bycicles basically the same as before. There also seem to be less tourists; I've always scoffed at the Japanese tourists by the lakefront, the face of superficiality; but now there is a feeling like emptiness, too much scenery per camera-persons, or else the lakefront really looks too much the same Hope for improvement in July.

A patch in the rough

Hi netbies,

This will read a lot like drivel, I confess to begin with I'm dashing this off so I can sleep with a murky conscience (as different from an opaque one haha.) Am I being more honest with myself, or am I truly down the mountain, in the river to be carried with the rapids? And do I like it? I think I do but we all know rapids lead to waterfalls... This is the life I've created, and its really horrifying if I look at it!

 

I've been keeping a personal diary so this is not my log of observations around me. So...

I'm playing a deception game with those who know me, and its fun but its also eating me alive. I have entered into the world of "sin" as it is known, I won't say the word but its different. How did I arrive to this street-level world you ask yourself? How did I forsake what you can call my "innocence" or integrity? I'm not sure, but I think I found this road a long time ago, before I moved here, and it was so bright! When you're alone, and no one to talk to, like reading your first book for example (no I don't mean masturbation, but that can be another episode haha) and words seem so frightening! Can you imagine, a boy of 10 having nightmares over a novel of fiction? Over and over again? That's when I cared about life, before I looked for that way, the way where the authors lived and breathed and had fun times and sad times. Let me say now before my lies grow stronger, I SHALL NEVER BE A WRITER, because I can't write! Not a single beautiful sentence! If you come looking for me to interview, as you shall and need to and that's good and right, you will find I own no books, only ashes that I recycle for my substitute for warmth.

 

On a serious note, those who read my blog believe they care about me even though... and for this I would give you anything. However, you're not alone in being in the way of my iron boots! I think I'm becoming a drug user.. it starts small, some beer now and then, coffee (now increasingly with sugar!), the other day I tried a cleaning product and liked it! And it doesn't end. I haven't picked up my guitar in months, it needs strings, I have them but don't put them on. I've missed many appointments.. and I get involved with people that I don't like for just the weirdest reasons! I feel to be honest that I am getting down to something. But I don't believe I'm "breaking through" just yet, though something about religion, popular songs and writers of the heart that are giving me vision. Right now I can tell a little of what it is not. It is not sermons on Sunday about your sins or insecurities, it isn't about what you think you should do (for another person, society, elderly people I can go on..) It isn't about what people call the "rat race" (but I think should be called finding your motivation for success!) Its also not about pleasing anyone or anything, but it is about following leads, I see paths into forests that could lead to wide farmland, a forest covered with dew or a marsh that traps the mind. Some people aren't here, and thank god, but if you are where I am and you can't pick up that book anymore or call that girl, I can try to empty my mind, flesh and soul! of power and let books, words and even people find me. They do you know.. ever wonder why you found "that book" in a store and it seemed right for you? If you're like me and you read alot, (btw get help now!) its like going for a run, your eyes find the books you want just like your feet find the surface of the pavement.

If you think I'm completely insane, well let me say that I have an idea what insanity is so keep it to yourself! But also, yes I am not too sane and somewhat what you call crazy, but if so it started before you knew me (but first impressions are important, maybe most important! I would like to look for my first impressions again and if you want to know people I suggest you do the same!) My trip has nearly reached its zenith, god willing I can find my spiritual home once again.

Random musings

Hello. Its been three months since I last blogged, and what can I say for myself? I didn't get accepted to Berklee College of Music, sad but I've a quality teacher in voice here where I live. The Uefa cup has come and gone, a hot two months though now we're experiencing torrential downpour (today I was soaked through on my bycicle coming back from neighbouring France.) My brother is off to university, which I have mixed feelings about. Anyone like to play pick up basketball, various rules, any or every day of the week?
I've been "helping out" at my church, gardening etc, with a lively man who works there. He knows all about the church, how its corner stone was layed by U.S. Grant. There is a mysterious side to it: the front façade (French fries!) contains a small window of stained glass with... a pentacle. Now, I don't want to judge or anything, but isn't that wierd- mabe more than wierd?

That's all for now.

Welt ge aus/Down on the Corner

Hello antropodae. I'm progressing in my music in so much as folk are giving comments to my teacher that I sound amazing. I agree; I'm trying to master Bach's St. Matthew's passion (for bass), really hard to do and not sound like a Schutstappfel Oberfürer at the same time. I looked for anyone's rendition on Youtube.com, and found one which got through the whole piece and lived to tell the tale. The other difficulty is of course the words; the German phrasing doesn't translate well into poetic English, but to hear a bit of the finished product is satisfying in the extreme.
At Citydisc yesterday, I browsed for fourty minutes, to discover that I don't shop for cds anymore. It was either having to pay twenty-eight francs for a new cd, or the fact that I woulden't pay twelve francs for an old Blur album, or any old classic album because it made me feel cheap. What's more, the only album I listened to was a re-issue of Thriller, which had good re-mixes with Akon and Fergie and other new R&B artists. It still gave me a chill though.
Uni is going well, though I'm still part time so still going "nowhere slow" in the words of Jimmy Pop of the Bloodhound Gang. The current course is "A History of Western Art", the prof is a young urbane lady (who incidentally went to La Chat as a teenager). Its a good class, small and full of different perspectives but this being Geneva, a little hungover from the night before and somewhat slow on the uptake.
Some not-so good stuff to report: there is systemic homelessness in Geneva. Yesterday in Cornavin train station I was stopped by a seemingly francophone man in his 50s who could only ask for money. I couldn't walk away, and neither could he let me go, but finally a classmate passed by and pulled me away. I saw the same man on my way downtown today, praying on those using the public transportation. Today I renewed my pass, so I suppose I'm supporting him by supporting his "market" for spare change. I remember what one Roma lady on the street told me once, "If you have fair skin, you will never be poor" (she said "white" or some synonym which I can't recall.) Well, I did sort-of ask for this, to be "like a rolling stone" and all that. Clearly we need good coordination at eg. the civil level, so that people like him don't have to pretend to be homeless and I don't have to pretend that I care. Meanwhile: the name of the candidate for "Minister of Justice" in the canton of Geneva? François Paychère.

We've made it as far as spring. This winter has seen the arrival of Roma (not the football club, the travellers) in our fair city, their subsequent extradition when it became plain the only available occupation was providing gossip for the papers and accordian golden oldies; the completion of the Gare Cornavin-CERN streetcar line, with its fashionable green pavement but ugly yellow signs telling unscholarly people "You read it, you recycle it." There is a subtle "Swissifying" of the main districts in preparation for Euro 2008, with more and classier souvenir shops and Burger King has been replaced by "Swiss Meal". That would be a burger and fries, but also such "hangover solutions" as cheese & pepper poppers as well as a "breakfast" of omelettes and the like. Its a dizzying time as my old favourite squares and streets are completely transformed, but I get a rush by giving directions like I'm a true Genevois. Pretty soon I can start taking tourists for a ride...
Genevans are naturally becoming a bit stir crazy after a winter of airport delays and rail strikes, ... how about new flight deals? The first Airbus A380 took flight one month ago, and there are deals for everyone from direct flights to Bangkok on Thai to Easyjet hops to such sunspots as Ajaccio, Corsica and Faro, Portugal. One piece of good news for visitors to Geneva: you can pick up your FREE all-Geneva bus pass next to the customs declarations. If you look carefully, there's a regular ticket machine, but with only one button to press, perfect if you're only taking carry-on.
Two days after the first day of spring, we had our first snowfall of the year, then our second, third and fourth. While it was a bit of a downer at the end of a mild winter, it was beautiful as only Switzerland can be, lightly clothing the parks in a platinum coloured pashmina. Fashion may be fickle but isn't change the real joy of life?

Boston, Music and the Pursuit of Happiness

Its been a while since my last update. I've been applying to music schools; indeed I auditioned at Berklee College of Music a fourtnight ago. It was an interesting experience, with the College balancing brilliance with chaos as I had expected. Our tour guide, slim and pale he was the archtyptal music nerd, related how he just cought a cold on the way from the dorm to the admissions office. This has given me pause to look firsthand at the life of a musician should I become one. I would be able to finally find out what I'm made of, see if all my supposed musical insights are valid and get some music done. I know I've potential, I'm not looking for validation. What bothers me is that the audition was all over so quickly; I played my two pieces (Given to Fly and an original work), took the ear test, jammed blues in E, gave it my all and hardly a word out of the examiner. Such is life.

Boston seemed like a great city, the same impression I got visiting seven years ago. The streets were wide and clean, the people were friendly and from our cabbie's radio station, pleasantly eccentric when it came to footbal (go Patriots!). Berklee doesn't have a campus per se, rather scattered buildings here and there, but there were loads of music stores with it must be said spectacular selection of guitar makes & models. An assortment of student coffeshops and dives were evident, and the presence of tall office buildings promised wealth and power to hardworking students (always important in cold climes to keep away a suicidal impulse). I got a great vibe from the recording studios and practice rooms at Berklee, and the performance hall looked stunning.

Would my life change, if I became a proffessional musician? Now I shall get philosophical as I am wont to do. The key difference is this: a musician's future is in the present. Don't worry about what you'll do tomorrow, but think of what you're doing today, look at it from all possible angles. Musicians are leaders without mandate. If you want to change the world, you are either a musician and/or music itself. Before my audition, my dad & I had seafood at a local restaurant, Summer Shack. I was preoccupied with tomorrow's audition and was looking for sustanance, but when we sat down it became just a night in Boston with good company, and pretty soon I felt like I was already at Berklee.
The rush of travelling to Boston has not yet worn off; my hope, weather true or fanciful, shall keep me through the dark days of winter.

In the Winter of our Discontent

Somewhat unusually it's like a New England fall in Geneva. A great many colours (without it must be said some of the redder hues) are present and leaves are gently scattered on many a street. There's snow on the Jura mountain range and the public drinking foutains have been switched off. I have the delight in feeling distainful at the world for bringing winter which in all likelyhood will be comparatively mild, and given this is Switzerland, orderly. I don't feel guilty for waking up at 9:00am as that's about the time the sun rises. As the days grow colder I remember the lyrics of the venerable Robert Plant: "I felt the coldness of my winter/I never thought it would ever go/I cursed the gloom that set upon us/and I know that I love you so!" (Page/Plant, "Rain Song" c.1975) One day the great Zep will no-longer take to the stage but for now I take comfort in poetry.