WELL, if you're reading this, you've managed to survive... as have I, apparently.
Life is a strange thing, isn't it? It's hard to know what comes next, and harder still to plan for it, and then sometimes it's hard to even really know where you've been. I mean, sure, you have an outline of the days gone by - but you, your mentality, your consciousness, YOU - where have you been? Were you the same person as you are now? Or is the present incarnation the only true form, the moment by moment, and so elusive to try to define any of it as anything grander?
Ehhhh, I'm not sure. Sometimes, when I'm not feeling too much, I like to push myself to get a little drunker, have a nice full glass of white wine (crispy cold) after a rum drink, and I like to listen to Mexican music and put myself through the wringer - nice and soft, just ooze on into it - and see what kind of fucked up pulp product comes out the other end. Often times it's stringy and disgusting, but hey, that's the fiber of life baby!!
Or something. That seems to be a theme here - not knowing. And I suppose I should qualify that, seeing as I've found my written words often come across as quite stark - it's not not benevolent. Sure, I'm tired and run down, and over a lot of things, and lacking a lot of others - but it's net good. This is life afterall, and to harken back to that present moment shit, it does tend to just spill out day by day whether you want it to or not. So you might as well dive and duck and try to catch as much of the sloppy as spillage as possible - no room here to be proud, to be egotistical. You have to sway and dance, sometimes like a fool, to get all you can get. Because the man that stands up straight and proud against the wall - he's going home dry. So who's a fool at the end of the night?
Alright then, sure. It's the 20s now. I remember when it was 2007. I remember when it was 2012. I remember when it was 2017 (not really - I don't remember a single thing from that year). And now it's the 2020s - remember when we all learned about the 1920s? Well, it's been 100 years, and it seems that most of the problems look familar, and all we've really gained are tired largely inaccurate but so delectable comparisons to the past. THE ROARING TWENTIES! History certainly repeats itself, but in another tone, it's a terrible fallacy to think that the past predicts the future. Present by present by present, moment by moment - that is how life unfolds.
It's very strange to me to think about people like Jimi Hendrix, Bradley Nowell, Janis Joplin, Christopher Wallace etc etc etc - ok yes I was doing the 27 club and then Biggie came to mind. But to think about these legends from the past that I've been inspired by, these people that I've dove deep and unabashedly into their art and personas, etc - to think that their entire lives were started and stopped in the amount of time, or less, that I've been alive on this Earth for now. I'm 27 years old. These motherfuckers, these legends - people that I've grown up with in a sense since a young age - now I'm their age. RIght? Obviously that could be worded more eloquently, but I trust you know what I'm getting at. This is one of those profound realizations that has nothing complicated or even special about it. Aging, mortality - these concepts are as old as time to a human being. But I use the word profound because it's something that felt - uncomplicated, but deep - oh damn. THAT PERSON - THAT LEGEND - WAS MY AGE. And now here I am. 3 years till 30. Here I am.
Yeah, I'm in the late phase of my 20s now, and it's the 20s now (and I can't lie - Earl Sweatshirt saying "I'm in my 20s now" on DNA comes strongly to mind). I don't really have a closing point outside of the various things I've brought up in this opening monolouge. And what you'll see below certainly won't be anything particularly deep or summary in nature. But that's the whole point of keeping this weird part (Very Few Apologies) of this one project (Doofus Media) going on the back burner's backup bunsen burner through it all - Life Happens. And I like to try to capture Life Happening. Yeah, you can't have archives to reflect on without hunting and gathering to get them. Because you never know which days will be the glory days.....
ALL MY DAYS GLORY DAYS BIIIIIIIIIIIITCH
WELL WELL, it's another intro trackkkkkkkkalbum......
THESE 3 PICTURES are my 3 moods, 3 horsemen, 3 horses, 3 3's, of 2021, thus far. (,,,)
MY SISTER, as it turns out, IS THE SPIRIT OF H A L L O W E E N
HA my sister looks like a possessed witch here and robbie looks like i've just said something absolutely despicable in the presence of his esteemed guests
THE TABLES WE END UP, in this life, have quite an outsized impact on our entire series of movements through this vast thing... WATCHU DRINKIN?? well there's ten on the table below, and the main thing pictured here is called The Hunter, and I mostly don't recall what's in it as Helen's, the beautiful establishment this photo was taken at, has been closed (temporarily) for some 3ish months now - but it's rye whisky. I do know that. And it's a flavorful drink, but you can still taste the whisky, which is how it should be, and which means it's strong. WHAT ELSE - chimes of midnight, another drink featuring mezcal, and I DO DECLARE a little bit of skiing on those snowy slopes. ABOMINABLE AS THE SNOWMAN
ah yes, all of my immediate family
Here's David Gray on my favorite sitting spot in Hollywood Cemetery. Nothing wild, right, right, BUT it belays the fact that I moved to a new city for the first time outside of college during our generation's (most living's) first pandemic and so the fact that I even have a favorite sitting spot in Hollywood Cemetery; AND, the fact that David Gray moved back to the East Coast, but to a new area, also during the pandemic, and bought a van and so rode on deep down south in it post SFUS reunion in order to safely quarantine for his nephew (?) to be, and this picture was taken on his return trip north, stopped over briefly and outdoor only and so hence the need for my favorite sitting spot here, even in the Coooollllddddd. AND SO HENCE THE FACT that we ain't weak motherfuckers and we still making SFUS reunions happen. Get the fuck outta here with being a victim of circumstance my "lost track of my friends" people. I'm not talking covid-related pauses in relations here - I'm talking you broad-speaking "life gets busy" types. YOU'RE NOT WRONG - but you gotta do better. As Kid Cudi said on Brothers, "The brothers that I never had made my life a lot less sad..."
WHOOPS, turns out we're already deep into the matrix whether you like it or not, whether your're ready or not,,, 1 2 3 HERE IT FUCKIN COMES
WORK, I work for money. I work at my job for money. I pretend I want a career for money. But, despite my already-deep-seated cynicism for being only 27, what I do is certainly not net bad. And what I do isn't entirely boring everyday. No, one of the silver linings, overarchingly, is becoming deeply familiar with the woodlands - every form of them, from young to old to natural to man-manufactured. And then, non-overarchingly - the woodlands, when you're deep in them (particularly in one of their man-messed-up younger forms) - well, it's not so nice. It's briar, and it's young spry saplings that snap back, and it's invasive species that don't give and have a strange amount of thorns, and if you're particularly lucky, it's a loss of any sense of direction, or a severe thunderstorm breaking directly overhead, or a terrified and equally confused bear barrelling down upon you... Yeah!
VERY GOOD THEN, all is well, the year 2020 has ended some time ago, and, as it turns out, purely coincidentally, the year 20and21 has started.