 |
|
You are not logged in! F.A.Q Log in Register |
 |
|
 |
 Now online (2)big bob ...and 60 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
 |
Members 8025Messages 2608873 Today 13 Topics 127232 |
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
maybe something like you feel me |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
sorry not good not good maybe something like a new wave track more upbeat? |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
epicmegatrax! bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
|
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
according to your music your mouth is infinitely larger than your arsehole, i must affirm |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Very retro porn. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Isn’t that the right way? |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
lol. i havent reasoned in those terms. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
my mouth is larger than my asshole yes |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
do u like ? |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
middle sounds like someone flicking an erection. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
pray for ; i am doomed |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Don't buy an MPC and stop sending messages to yourself. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i woke up and thought "what is xltronic up to i wonder let me check" then i thought "nah, i'm sure it's only epicmegatrax writing more bullshit" and went back to sleep. lol i'm only a joking sorry |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
more or less, this thread started off as a courtesy: i'm lousing up threads with my rambling; let's draw a line and plant the true tangents in their own private zone so only those who actually give a crap are exposed to it. there's not really much point if you react to me here like you did when i did it in unrelated threads; may as well poop everywhere if you won't allow me a private stall that being said, this thread took on a certain momentum after a while, and certain rambles just inherently feel like they belong here. i guess it was a failed idea that resulted in a different, but still valid idea |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
also, i'm not mad. you can write whatever you want here. heck, that's what i made it for, right? and that's part of the fun of xltronic. it's harder to get in a supermodel's pants than it is to get banned, here, and it's even harder to actually make a new account, these days. part time-warp, part insane aslyum mermaidman ~ i feel like you are on stimulants, alcohol, and psychedelics. i know this because i remember my xltronic posts in 2012. take care of yourself. you're not quite as good as jivver, but this place would still be far more dull without you russelldust ~ i sent that to a good pal of mine. when i was out of work, broke, ubering, some idiot lady changed lanes into my car, he took me in for three months. in that time, i bought another car with the insurance money, found a job, got an apartment. i had to sell off most of my synths due to being out of work, including the first proper synth i ever had, a korg x5d. bought for me by my dad's godfather, "uncle ken." he'd insisted to my parents that i had the hands for piano, and he also bought me one of the first keyboards i'd ever had, a yamaha portasound in the late 80s. it was one of the first things i circuit bent anyways, i took a class called "introduction to digital music" in high school. i literally could not bang a tambourine on time, but with the computer, i could take something in my head and have it be something other people could hear. i was hooked. the class had korg x5ds for every workstation. i remember asking about things like "how can i load my own noises into it" and being told "that's sample, they don't do that" he had a korg x5d in a closet, and he just gave it to me. i'd also used korg wavestation as a VST for years, and when i told him this, he also had one in his closet, and said i could have it. life was busy and it was only last weekend i was finally able to visit, get it. along with the power supply for the mixer he'd given me, and my 1099 health insurance whatevr |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
a lot of my music gear, that which did not have resale value when i was under financial pressure, was effectively stolen. my dad was dying, i was emotionally incoherent. i was renting a room from a friend in cape cod; i went back home to be with my family. i'd had a storage locker on and off, but i was broke, so i asked him if i could just leave most of it there for a while; transported what i could back home and such. eventually, i come back, and ask to come get it. "oh, yeah, i tried emailing you but you didn't respond." i read my email. i did not buy it turns out he'd just started taking bits of it, gave half my music gear to his uncle. i desperately said: i just want my mixer back. my yamaha. i've had that since high school. it's half-knackered anyways, why would anyone want it? never saw it again. along with my xbox, my digitech metal master, etc. the mpc, though, i had to sell. the joke i was getting at, i suppose, was that i loved all that music gear so much, that i neglected the rest of my life. i was just on another fucking planet, working a room full of hardware for 14 hours a day. three days a week, i would actually do a job, working from home. more or less, i should have given it five days. put some away for later. but, no, bills are paid, time to write music. meanwhile, a four-year relationship was also being neglected. that went first, then i was redundant and out of work gallows humor, really. mocking myself for doing that shit. but, really, i doubt i'll do it a second time, even if i do buy an MPC. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
the whole thing came out of the ashes of that, i suppose. so you get into sorta shit, where the neurons that had been doing music for 14 hours a day engulfed the part of my brain that was responsible for driving a car like some sort of tentacle virus |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
That's really sad, I'm sorry mate. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
no but i was really just joking i like the epicmegatrax writes more bullshit column |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
athletics visualization ~ the best-known name so i'll just borrow it if you're a well-adjusted human, you've probably spent time throwing crumpled-up paper into wastebaskets, at least a few times. myself, i don't sit there and waste paper to throw it out like i would when i was ten, but i do still relish when i can have a legitimate excuse to more or less do the same thing. you know, i really have to throw this paper out, so, heck... after a few years, i noticed that i got the best results if i focused on the image -- no, scratch that, sort of like a short animated gif of the ball of paper going into the basket. the desired goal. shortly thereafter, i also noticed -- when i was worried about missing, i often did. i propose a crossfader between "focusing on what you want to achieve" and "doubt." doubt gums up the works. focusing on what you want to achieve focuses your mental resources more completely. it does not guarantee success, it's more about operating at capacity. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
sports visualization exports sports elaboration; the next word in your mind is |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
the difference between Thoreau, and Emerson... Thoreau would repeatedly revise his shit, while Emerson would sort of braindump & publish. I remember being assigned to read both, in high school. Finding Thoreau pleasant and lively to read; Emerson thick and dull. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
it's entirely possible i reversed the two writers. what made an impact was this: my starkly different reaction between one and the other, then finding out that the one i found pleasant instead of painful was the one that compulsively re-edited his writing to death. i can't edit on xltronic; that has its own sort of value. more of a genuine snapshot... but, i guess, weaselpedia is more or less this thread, compulsively re-edited to make proper sense (as much as it can, anyways) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
in the dark; canned u hear me? |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Ooh you’re talking about Thoreau and Emerson. Ace. I too prefer reading Thoreau. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
I don’t always agree, but I like the transcendentalits of back when in the shtates. ‘On civil disobedience’ really touched me at the time I read it. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
when i lived a little closer, i used to go for walks in walden pond. i'd say ask people "is this walden?" and point a point. no one ever got it unless it was someone else i'd driven there with me. much more entertaining was a lady's dog wilding out and getting her super. mad. because he won't come back out of the muddy water. if dogs could lol, he would have been doing it. i think i actually have some video; posted about it here |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
*point to a pond |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
He he! Oh, as for a dog in a muddy pond... I saw a vid not long ago but I think it was Facebook |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
so i get a call from lewis just now, 10:30pm. he's been kicked out of his house, he's in his pajamas can he come over and stay? yes, but, ugh. i have work tomorrow |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
has anyone else ever felt a correlation between the emotional tension in a song and the buffer distance you leave between yourself and the car in front of you? no, scratch that, let's just build it up ~ when you drive a car, or whatever, you leave a certain amount of space between yourself and any vehicle in front of you. there are laws about how much distance, etc. but in america, these laws are seldom enforced. after much thot, what i feel it boils down to is reaction time. as a computer meat sack, i have a hard-limited reaction time to absolutely everything. i don't see the gap between me and the next car about safety, so much as a reaction buffer. a sort of address space in which i'm making numerous interrelated suppositions. keeping an eye on the luxury mobile looking to cut me off, while watching my lane, three or four cars ahead, to know if i need to know to brake before i really need to. recently, to chemical brothers, but before that, i was on a big driving to fatboy slim kick drum marathon |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
driving fast... not, like, stupid fast, just toeing the 15mph above the speed limit threshold that is the unwritten rule of speeding in america, on a nice hill, with curves... i am having a . if i haven't driven my car and started legitimately tearing up within the last few weeks, it is time to deeply re-examine how i've been living my life as of late. i've posted about it somewhere here, before. i remember, a phrase popped into my hed: "bloviate verklempt." i posted it to twitter (because it had a nice ring to it) and considered the matter settled. but, over the next week, the phrase kept popping up in my brane. it was legit haunting me -- hey, there i am, thinking of that stupid bit of idle nonsense again. i have a lot of nonsense like that, and it doesn't usually persist like this. what does bloviate mean, anyways? Slang To discourse at length in a pompous or boastful manner "ok, yeah, this is me," i thot verklempt? it turns out it was a yiddish word meaning "to be overcome with emotion." like, you know, the level of joy you experience during the birth of your first child, or the joy i experience a few times a month (if i am taking proper care of myself) driving my car to the right music. i took two or three semesters of german class, but i've never been exposed to yiddish at all, really. always adored how the phrase haunted me until i finally researched it; understood why it was so insistent. i see fragments of where it came from, bit it was just so bizarre -- english doesn't have a matching word for "verklempt." my brain needed such a word. and i spout out a yiddish word on twitter, it haunts me until i realize it's that thing i sent ya |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
most frustrating to me is after , i have cheap-peace-of car, right now. it's, like, 11 or 12 years old, but it only had 60k miles when i bought it. judging by this, and its generally garish appearance, i surmise it was previously owned by an indian-american grandma who drove it like, never. the model had trims with far superior engines, but i do not have one of these trims. it's ok; i don't care about raw power. i care about tension and release. but i did smell the brake pads when i got back just now; think i need to start plotting my exit from this stupid indian grandma car |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
dklgdjfgjdlkfg. dfjgkjggg990g. fjfsdf. it has been , like, a week or three since i've had a solid day to myself. i take off last friday, monday, because taxes are complicated due to my past negligence. that does get more or less taken care-of, barely, but lewis has a paranoid episode and it is a whole drama i won't get into. end story, he flies off to california, because, i guess, he just feels the need to escape, and the best thing for him is to just let him do it. meanwhile, i'm rather bummed about it, but his ex-girlfriend is flipping out, even though she has a new boyfriend, so now i've been hanging out with my best friend's ex-girlfriend and it's like hanging with a strange female version of myself. it makes perfect sense, it's just weird |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
woke up angry. just angry at everything. the neighbor's dog barking was like stabbing bombs of "fuck off" in my brain. clearly, something had to be done. i got out in my car and smoked a had, but then so many people out. everything was in bloom and my car had been covered in things from the tree stuff, and this also annoyed me. i wanted to have a cigarette but there's, like, some kid festival, and i feel kind of crappy doing it right there, and so i want until the last minute and only barely crack the window and stupid fucking people everywhere traffic is really slow. no one's fault, just stupdppdigh. none of this is leaking out into my driving, however. externally, i'm driving very (po)lightly and smoking a cigarette. smokes didn't do it. cigarette didn't do it. driving is crap. stuck at a red lite, i disgard half of the cigarette on to the pavement, out of protest to life itself there's a junction point i target because of an odd u-turn maneuver that a) i love, b) people rarely even think to do. but, again, promptly, some audi is doing my thing, and doing it, like, you could walk faster i get around him a moment later. i am free of all the people. i feel like a caged bird finally being able to spread its wings. the song now is "the sunshine underground" by the chemical brothers, and all the trees are in bloom, and it's perfectly suited to the music. i'm sure you can imagine. i exit the highway, and as a redlite looms, i sigh, knowing that was probably the best stretch i'd get out of this run. but, then i correct myself -- no, don't call it. whatever happens, will happen and it promptly keeps going, albeit slower. the other drivers finally feel in sync. i see three cars queued up, and say, "yes, that's about the length of this breakdown," and it fits. gradually looping around a long curve, trees all flowery, i actually start to cry a bit. it's just so beautiful this is what i do when i feel angry at everything. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
it has not always been this way. at first, i didn't even stop to think that there was anything wrong, the anger would have me, and i'd do obnoxious things. once i noticed the pattern, well, it took years to learn how to stop it. from there, i'm still angry, and you get into a deep pit of stages with modular strategies. if the anger is allowed to keep going, eventually, i'll wind up in a pit of depression. holed up in bed for a week. as an allegedly responsible adult with a normal job and a long commute, i don't have time for that. after the drive, i was still coasting on adrenaline. i found myself writing the above post in my head, and, as i did, i actually started crying again. i let it go fully at this point, since i wasn't behind the wheel anymore, and cried out of joy for a bit. then out of sadness. then i found myself laughing. then i felt incredibly drained. this annoyed me. dammit, i have things to do. i don't have time for this. then i'm analyzing why this happened. i'd had a dream about my usb sleep charger being broken and then i woke up at like 8 am. i had a glass of water and went back to sleep. this -- i think -- was my mistake. i can get crabby when i oversleep, and i think my brain was trying to warn me. these sort of post-analysis sessions are how i develop all these strategies in the first place. iterative improvement |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
after that, i was still just sort of standing there, so i thought, "it'd probably help if i started typing it up" and then i'm doing it and "a cup of tea would be nice" and "let's have something to eat" just now. there we go. it's warming up |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i had 3 cups of tea accompained with 12 biscuits each least night |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
missed the 5 1s, congrats |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
this is also how i manage myself on the train, in a sense. i'll jam headphones on my head with "the sunshine underground" and i'll flash back to that moment, or others... but, usually, it's no particular moment, it's just the general feeling. then suddenly there are just waves of :) all over and i'm not really on the train anymore. i'm somewhere else. it doesn't always work. sometimes, i'm beaten down into the state where i'm angry at everything. i usually manage not to let on, though, and the walk home is 3/4 of a mile and that generally helps calm me down it is like playing a chess match with my brain. i've taken most of its pieces, but i still can't pin down his king. the endgame can be right irritating perhaps, at some point, my situation will change -- what if, i'm now driving to work? i have to engineer a new routine and appropriately distribute the strategies. figure out multiple routes to suit my moody needs. one normal, straight-to-work route, another long, winding, "i need to chill a bit" route, and perhaps a backup for each of those in case of traffic. eventually, it becomes modular, and i'll just add as much as i need, or selectively dodge blocks of traffic my job is software engineering and this is how you have to think for software engineering. i know it sounds strange and autistic, but i'm not autistic at all, just strange, possibly bipolar, add, etc. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
that's a shit-ton of biscuits! |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
then im shit thin all the same |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
do you have clif bars over there? that's what i just had. it's sort of like somewhere between a granola bar and a biscuit, more healthy a breakfast but not too healthy :) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i went out for a drive again, in significantly better spirits, this time. just a sort of booster shot, and a full cigarette. i skipped past the last 30 seconds of "the sunshine underground" and "out of control" was next. after a minute or three, though, i decide that it's clashing. i like the song very much, it's just wrong for the vibe around me. i press "next track" and comes on. i found it quite apropos, given all i've just written... and it synced up much better. then , which i also found very appropriate If we stand here together We can laugh at what we've done All our time has been wasted And there's nowhere left to run There may be trouble up ahead Will we be sleeping in our beds Or will we arise to a new world |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
nowhere to be seen |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
maybe they hid them in the back somewhere so you don't see them |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
you mean they stick them up the ass and that EpicMegatrax does it too? |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
have you noticed how listening to a shit stream on the radio is like listening to a cd with scratches on it? |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Poor lewis and poor you, you seem to have bad luck. Do you have any good luck stories? |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
|
Messageboard index
|
|||||||||
