Sunday, January 16, 2011
even in case i'm burning please don't piss on me
EICIBPDPOM - raving / raging
EICIBPDPOM - career
EICIBPDPOM - great cop
EICIBPDPOM - essay on bullshit # 1/ epiphanies
EICIBPDPOM - sophie's choice of the year
EICIBPDPOM - essay on bullshit # 2 / speed thoughts
But really if I wanted pace I would like it around the most useless hours like 3 pm to 4 pm. When everything is just there to let me down because there’re only things i can be sorry for. With the pale lights of the day and people connecting to life so much different than I do. Today I scanned old photos of my family. My favorites were the ones which had my far far none blood related whomever who is schizophrenic because she listened to a religious radio station too much. There’s just something really interesting in her expressionless face. Then I drank coffee and went to buy a bottle of wine for my father’s upcoming birthday which is the exactly same day as Hitler’s death day, listening to Sonic Youth and the Nerves in new shoes what I found heavy and finally just in a t-shirt that’s how warm the air was. Caffeine overdose is like a flower. With sun-beams and good circumstances like middle era Sonic Youth the material in my blood opens up in my head as the most magical feeling. This is not about drinking materials. It’s about fast paced thoughts with slow motion walking in the sun and listening to amazing guitar outruns. Or homeruns or whatever that translates the sound’s vibration which is shockingly similar to a heart’s race after running a marathon. I’ve spent this afternoon with failing to fix a mix tape for a party I’d like to but will not attended. Still I imagined the soundtrack in the background of drunk kitchen conversations of european contact exchanging and great songs. None of us is doomed enough for something interesting to happen with us. But that’s alright. Somehow punk will destroy our weak bodies. I’m not punk because I always was and am weak. I became weak cause I didn’t give a shit about my body image and found sitting around and hanging more fun than running around. So music will destroy me. The caffeine I toke to make Wipers more effective and the headphones what makes everything sound better. The weight that my ears have to bear and my brain what shrinks so the sounds can have enough space. Ok it’s not true or I hope it’s not and this wasn’t my ironic and fatal sentence. Fuck I just have so many great images and activities and people and places which I could connect with or through music and because I’m writing this it’s obvious that I feel the need to get things out of my head while the things inside my head are the best things ever because they are all mine and I’m not ashamed of my thoughts. Sometimes it feels that what I need is not writing it out but to collect them into one place. That’s why I need the speed to have them all at the same exact time. Like now i’m a bit overdosed myself with it. I mean them. Caffeine and my adored thoughts. The need to put something cool into this empty world. So now i’m feeling like i’m right in that world where Flipper records are relevant. It’s so claustrophobic cause i’m surrounded with fuzziness and everything is just flashing around in my head, i really have to focus even on a such simple thing as pissing right into the toilet. Right. I’d like to call all my friends, have them here where we eat cold spaghetti and warm ice cream and watch apocalypse now redux version while spinning records above it. Selecting music for the scenes because we all know what they on the screen say, think and hallucinate. We’d roll around the floor shirtless not wanting the earth to open. Or have a dance party to Rudimentary Peni. Stole skateboards from the cheap pot dealer who lives on the third floor. And have night sessions with a boom box blasting Wire. I sucked in skating and after I broke my hand into two pieces I gave it up and went too far with punk. Still I have dreams with riding. It’s almost as cool when I dream with girls who I love. Sometimes I just imagine things while awake.
I love my neighborhood. It always reminds me to raise the question what were my parents thinking. They delivered me into the last three years of the soviet union. And they had no idea it will ever end. Furthermore they lived in deep poorness. And when i was around 5 or 4 we got here where I live now. The national and practically only tv channel had a daily soap opera that was filmed here. And we got here. Kinda amazing. Cause in every second episode there were youngsters in leatherjackets trying to beat up everyone, rob old people, rape young ladies. Mafia wanted to take over all the tiny grocery stores in every corner and everyone was ordering or buying cognac in every 5 minutes. Of course there was this guy from the orphanage working the shittiest jobs, who always stepped in and saved whoever needed it. Then he drank some cognac. The irony is that one of the things i’ve learnt to work is his job. But it’s not that important. What raises the question in me is my parents saw every day what this neighborhood is like. Full of violence, rookies in capitalism, drug dealers, nazis, catholic priests, house policy obsessed stuck up sons of bitches. Still we got here and i have to say it’s not just one of the safest places in such a safe town but most of the times it just seems dead to me. And i fucking love it. Walking all alone at nights being amazed by no one is around is just so perfect for an outsider like i’m. Basically I could be that evil guy who needs to be beaten up cause I might not have a leatherjacket on the outside but I constantly wear it everyday inside. And of course I wanna steal things from every grocery store and make sweet love to all the ladies. But you see I don’t have time for these cause I’m too busy walking around and pretending that I’m from another planet staring on everything like they are new to me. Nowadays i like to dress up for these brief walks as an inbreed son of a happy family incest. It gives me the false feeling of freedom. Also i could buddy up with the guys who dress the same but not as a joke or conscious choice just out from their nature. It means i’m backed up by an army of schizophrenics. Like it would be needed. Cause my neighborhood has no one around after 8 pm. And everything fits when I’m out all alone in this world. Yeah I see lights burning in some flats but it doesn’t mean anything. It never does.
EICIBPDPOM - girls & boys
EICIBPDPOM - essay on bullshit # 3
true love will find you
TLWFY - foreword
TLWFY - essay on bullshit # 1
Some look on the world like it’s a musical. One makes a nod or yells: „hit it” and of course the music that fits the best starts to play from an unknown source. Everyone else is supporting this main act with providing chorus vocals and all these shit. Everyone knows how to move, the whole world is there for one person’s perfect performance. Even though musicals fucking suck most of the living creatures on earth would be so flattered to star one just once in their lives. To be seen is not some shallow desire. But making the whole world dance to your beats is one. And while everyone seems to be happy it’s just cheesy music with non-sense lyrics that no one takes serious and except for the main act everyone is just a simple tool what makes the background a bit more lively.
I on the other hand see the world as a zombie movie. Wikipedia says George A. Romero uses zombies as a political or social statement and i couldn’t really see them any different. Zombies always move in masses and in most of the movies they become a critical mass from where the people, who used to be normal, become the minority. We cheer for these used to be normals to survive because we in front of the screens still more closer to them. But we want them to stay alive for what? When the whole world is burning you maybe can take out the fire but then what’s gonna be left for you? All you will have are ashes and ruins. Buildings and damaged landscapes. Do they have that much sense without people? The weird thing about zombies is that they want you instinctively. It’s not clear if they want your brain out of hunger or are they just frustrated because you’re different. But when they bite you, you’ll become one of them. You can kill as many as you want or could but again there’s no real point except for calm and momentary feelings of safety. Which you can get if you hide. That’s the only weapon you can fight zombies. Cause zombies’ main goal is to make you one of them to be normal up to their standards. Is it that different from the society we live in now? How many times they, the whole world, want us to be like them. And when we won’t, they feel anger and want to destroy, control or hunt us. They make us hide. What we never see is how zombies function when there’re all just them. Do they still creep around slowly in masses? I know why they don’t show it. Cause if we saw them function in a society-like living structure what would be the point to keep staying out of it? I saw a movie called Blindness. It’s about a, sorry for the spoiler, brief diseases what makes everyone lose their sights so the world stops to work. What else could it do? All the great technological inventions need our eyes. I’m talking about vehicles when you see where you’re going with them and monitors on what you can see what you have to work on. Are we doomed without our eyes? What we see in this movie is the society trying to reorganize itself. Wait no. That’s what should happen. But rather it’s either complete chaos or total dictatorship. Everything has become incomprehensible fast and cruelly supported. We can’t wait for things if they won’t happen instantly. So require the whole world to wait and step back in technology few steps until the smartest people will create new tools what make our life easier to live is almost utopistic. So is it only our eyes to keep us socialized? I wonder if without seeing others, colors of our skins would still matter. Are we zombies for the blind? Putting out our frustration on them because they couldn’t fit in? If losing the ability to see would make this civilization fall then is one person’s tragedy a collapse?
Have no idea if the original book’s writer used sight with this intentions but i think it’s a great metaphor. Remember that horrible scene from Schindler’s List when so many people were shepherded into a huge shower objectum and the nazi soldiers turned the lights down on them? Many times i could feel this paranoia in today’s society. The constant fear of someone will turn the lights down on us so we won’t see anything. We’ll be just a bunch of people overpopulatedly close to each other confused and screaming in the dark. We are afraid of the weather, of economics, of homosexuals, of drug users, of radical thinkers, of different religions than ours, of god, of political parties, of nuclear bombs, of pedophiles, large countries that are either close to us or inject shitloads of money into their military. In every fucking minute something could collapse, snap, pushed and somehow we could feel the lights switched down on us. Uncertainty is the biggest enemy of ours and it’s hard to be certain in pitch-black. We could hide from this too. In the more classical sense zombies are just the living dead. Who are dead, barely functional but a bit are. Many have realized being scared and want to be some kind of a main act is too tiring as well. So they’ve chose to slow down and let themselves be bitten. Even if i’m not daydreaming about it, and wouldn’t really into this lame making it formal way i think i wouldn’t mind to marry someone i love. And if the world weren’t a fucked up, horrible place and for start my girlfriend / wife and i weren’t horrible people i maybe would conceive a child into all this. But it breaks my heart when i hear people talk about getting married and having kids before they even know who they want to marry or what they will do in the future. Maybe they are optimistic but the way they say it it’s more like an escape into all this. „My parents and everyone else i know did this so i have to do it as well”. Just because old people have died with a smile on their faces in their soft and comfy deathbeds it doesn’t mean the only way for us to achieve such happy ending is to follow their path. I don’t know if there’s any conclusion i’m heading towards with all this. Cause there are very few movies when no crucial character changings are happening and the main character won’t become a grow up or settle with his or her life. But that’s the movie i want for myself. Maybe become smarter but stay something like this what i am now. Without the need to feel all the time that zombies are fucking chasing me.
TLWFY - Things what depress me
- Professional musicians. Who think just because they can play on their instruments many chords in the school way, they deserve more than what they can get by themselves. Almost every time in this case bands could not write one proper song. They are all about technique and no original ideas. Requires for what? No one cares about your stupid solos. It’s not even pissing me off it’s just so sad i wanna cry my pillow salty.
- Young kids who want to be professionals only to be famous and liked. Before even doing anything. Afraid to risk anything, never do nothing. Way to go kids!
- People who think there’s such thing as serious music journalism not just fans with reliable tastes and even if they hate these so called journalists they make them feel legit. When a fan thinks he or she is a pro it’s reviews mostly talk about what other media said about the record and they try to be objective. About a record? It’s more like funny than depressing.
- People who lose money or interest in punk so they call their scene or the whole thing dead.
- People who think others do everything with some kind of bad intentions. Lots of times these judgmental heads call themselves anarchists. But how could someone be an anarchist when they don’t trust people? Some people are different than others. And because we find things shitty it doesn’t mean for others it’s not the best thing ever. We listen to unlistenable music and we think it’s the best thing ever. It’s the fascists who decide why people doing things.
- People carrying more about formats than the content. „I don’t listen to cds or mp3s”. No one listens to cds or mp3 there are bands playing music on them. Arrogance is really really sad. Fuck limited stuffs and format obsessed individuals.
- People claiming respect. Especially from the young fellows towards the old farts while first of all the old guys are constantly shitting on the young ones and second what the fuck? Respect, behaving? Is it a fucking family lunch or could we be punks? And what do you do with respect? You want it for what you are doing now or for what you did long long time ago?
- Old people killing hope in young. Fucking lame that much it is so depressing.
- People in punk telling others what they should do or how it should be. Like a scene, a band, a zine could be controlled and there should be someone who’s in charge. Things are happening cause people want them to happen if you don’t like it make something else what suits you the best.
- People who only talk about their jobs or tv series. I feel sad for people who only live for their jobs and the coolest thing for them to talk about is tv.
- Conservative punks makes me feel stupid cause i couldn’t really put the two things together in my head. And i feel sad when i’m stupid.
- People who express their opinions about bands in relation with their crowd or the social phenomenon what surrounds these bands. So so sad cause we should care about the bands not their fans.
- People proud to not know or do something. „I’ve never read this book, i never read anything”. Bravo fucking bravo.
TLWFY - Thing i never learned to do or not capable of doing that’s why i’m sorry for
- be able to draw
- had real fights when i was around 16
- i can’t whistle
- to moonwalk
TLWFY - essay on bullshit # 2
Are we what we do or are we what we think? I do what i do cause i think what i think. But some people just think and others only do. That’s why some jobs are hated. Causes for the most, people are only jobs, occupations, professions. While jobs are like cities. The ones we already hate. But we have to live somewhere.
The drawback of doing something is: I’m chained to the process. If i’m travelling i have to move. If I love I have to stick to a person. If i wanna be in a band i better pick a city. Cause that’s what matters. A band is writing songs in a rehearsal room, practicing them and playing those on local shows till we record some of them probably in our town from where we’re sending them out. It’s the same with fanzines. You have to sit down and write the damn thing then put it together and distribute it. I wrote a zine on the road. Or I might say I scripted it. But after I got home I had to sit on my ass, type it in, print it out, cut it up, find old books, cut them into pieces and past-glue the whole thing all together, xerox it so many times then bend the pages all together and carry some to all the shows where I went and wanted to make money from what I can buy booze. And don’t even start me on being a record geek buying vinyl to your address and listening to them while sitting next to the turn table. If you do something you have to do it at one point and mostly all alone. I go to band rehearsals when everybody is out drinking and making out, having a fun on dance floors, puking on night buses. I carry that huge and heavy bass case and I feel awkward. Then I come home and practice more, listen to hard to hear recordings while trying to write songs, better notes than I improvised in the room. I remember when i was in a band and while i was virgin how much i envied those guys who came to our shows with their girlfriends and actually liked us. And maybe they thought “wow this is cool, guess this guy is rolling”. But i didn’t. Maybe people were gifting the cds, what i put together, for christmas which lead to gratitude sex while i tried to get drunk from my small amount of money and hide my drunkenness from my parents. We sit around and do. We are do-ers. While people go on spiritual journeys or discover new cities maybe carrying us with them in forms of paper, files, vinyl. But we sit in one point, forming bands, staying awake to put together things. Maybe go to bars only for inspiration or celebration on tiny achievements. We create stories cause things aren’t happening with us. There’s nothing poetic about my life. I have to think all the time.
What is more heartbreaking when people tell me i should start to work then it will stop me thinking all the time. But I wanna work only because I can keep thinking then. I want money and that’s all. I’m facing an upcoming high school reunion and even if I won’t go of course it went through my head what would I say? How would I summon the last 5 years? Maybe in the same way as I did couple weeks ago for a girl who seemed to be concerned about my happiness. In my past 5 years I did it. I fucking made it and mostly by myself. Everything. I can manage, book, write, distribute, put together, promote, organize, cook, dance, survive, play, rip, have fun. I wanted to be in a band and I was and still am. I’ve learnt to play on an instrument the punk way. I wanted to write and I’m constantly doing it. I wanted to travel as touring. I wanted to create great music and I did. I could be constantly indulge myself of giving my best time by time. And I wanted some people to like what I do. And I do great things what i can like and glad to show without that much of egoisticism. Because I’m so into them and you should believe me I truly hate myself pretty much the whole time. So work is money for me and that’s all. What I can invest into my survival as a punk. I don’t need career. I don’t wanna buy big things. If I wanna travel I could make it almost for free. I know people in huge cities so I won’t have to rent rooms or bunk beds in shitty hostels. And I’m not only in love with touring because I can have fun for free with my friends but also because I can be constantly amazed of how nice this all is. The international connection of listening to awesome bands and having the greatest ideas.
I used to wonder how cool it would be if I were a writer. Or a journalist. Same daydreaming everyone does after they learn the abc. But I don’t want to become one and have to cover up things because someone signed me to do it. I love writing and thinking but I don’t really into the school or official or professional form of it. I’m not even sure if I’m really that good at it. I just know I like it when I’m doing it and I don’t want it to define me. I want to define what I’m writing. If you wanna give me money for that, just for the simple enjoyment of reading my stuff then do it. But it has to come from desperation if I ever want to be a journalist. We really are obsessed with producing or serving. Take those arrogant assholes who work in instrument or computer stores knowing everything about what they are selling but nothing besides that and treating their costumers like retarded animals. Cause they as well identify themselves with their jobs and look down on everyone who’s different. The intellectuals have this fetishlike love affair for blue-collar workers. That’s why they have invented communism. The sexualisation of hard, sweaty work. People seek for dignity in their occupations and nothing pays of better the self-righteousness than suffering in long shift shitty jobs. Probably I will work something nonsense. Even if it will be helpful for some it won’t be what I would really wanna do. Cause I’m doing it already but not for money nor for dignity. I’m just doing it cause it’s fun. And fun is where my dignity lies.
Obviously there are jobs that are not punk. Without drawing borders of punk I would say every job is terrible for which you have to give up your whole self. It’s almost impossible to work without come in terms with some lame rules of the work place. I myself wanna work in t-shirt and don’t have to care about how my hair or facial hair looks. I’d be a ceo of a company If it won’t live up all my time. I don’t want to be cruel to people or sell my conscience out. So I might not be a ticket controller either.
What’s ahead of me is to choose an incognito. Which for I don’t have to care that much. But it’s not easy to convince myself to sacrifice my precious empty hours, what I’ve spent with seeking for and listening to great music and brainstorming on better ideas, for just getting money. So every Sunday I go to bed with a so far never fulfilled promise: I’m gonna start a fake life on Monday.
TLWFY - Thing i should stop doing
- Putting my chin on a plastic bottle while i’m sitting at my table, sometimes scratching my teeth on the plastic cap.
- Not having a conversation but just telling stories like i’m biding with someone on who will run out first of anecdotes.
- Always telling the same things. Especially when i’m drunk.
TLWFY - essay on bullshit # 3
Actually we are the cool ones. Cause we are really ok with ourselves and we are confident and don’t really give a fuck about unimportant others, circumstances and bogus obstacles. No one knows this because we are all in a secret society. The world does make us awkward and confused and barely functional when it drags us out from our safe circles. It always wants to prove us we worth nothing. Even if we don’t, I don’t give a fuck till I love this non-existence. For me it’s the world what sucks. And if we turn our backs on it, we bravely express our opinions, for start we do have opinions. We don’t give a fuck about shit like whether we look good or not, social statuses and consuming capitalist symbols. But we do give a mountain-full of shit for what we do, think or how we live our lives. When I sit alone at bars listen to other people I feel like they are part of another reality. A parallel one which I can see and they could see me as well but we hardly cross each other’s lines. They are just different and make me sad all the time. I don’t wanna change them, not even feel sorry for them. They just make me sad and I would have to pay heavy money for a shirk if I wanted to know the why beyond this sorrow. I don’t care that much till I have my people. With whom i could bond, appreciate and help each other easily if we spy the common signs and could speak the common language. Which uses the grammar of the punk attitude. This is all just narcissism and the share of that. I love that i love what i love. And i love it cause i could feel connected to it. And it’s good to share. I like people who could be enthusiastic and do hard work like child’s play because they want to do this whatever and it makes everything easy all the time. Sometimes when i see someone who seems like an interesting or beautiful person i imagine her to be into things similar like i am. Cause how on earth she isn’t, while she looks like the coolest person ever. We were walking on the streets with my good friend one hot summer night and he explained how disappointing is for him to see someone from a distance and feel like she or he is one of us. But getting closer it’s just the cloths and the look, maybe the gesture on the face. But nothing from the arsenal of our secrets. Ipod has became a social status symbol as once mobile phones or plasma tvs in eastern europe had. But everyone makes calls or watches tv. But only a few could fill a pocket sided multimedia object with many gigas of music. And there’s even fewer for whom there’s never enough place to fill. We are one of a kind. We are unique. Or at least we were.
We liked to be locked. We lock ourselves from the world because it’s boring and useless when it doesn’t offer us good money, tasty food, great sight to see while walking. But to be locked is always better when we are locked together with someone. That’s why I wonder if those people who look I am, are they similar to me. Are they part of the secret? They have an ipod full with music there’s got to be something common. The thing is. It really isn’t that hard to fill an ipod. Not that hard either with music I would be nerding out on. Everything is learnable nowadays that’s why it’s easy to adapt. Some people put their whole lives into the liking of some things or just to have a great taste and feel like they should be paid for that.
We hate these people cause they are selling out our precious obsessions. They make culture from it. Turning it into something cheap and easily adoptable. With observable objects and treating the whole as a subject. They (means we) are angry. Why? It has to be some lame, childish shit. While maybe we are just naturally angry. That’s what normal for us. We didn’t choose punk because it looked the coolest or because that’s what our surroundings were listening to. We found it because we knew there’s gotta be something like this. Because for us it’s the coolest but we live this. And we are not normal people. For normal people it’s the least cool.
The problem is this. New people told to discover bands because they (the bands) are cool so people are not doing it by themselves but to become the ones who name dropped obscure bands from their rebelfull youth. The main problem is not accepting a suggestion. It’s that in many people’s heads these bands are not cool because of their music and their messages simply are but because cool people only said they are. While punk is not about accepting. It’s about learning, thinking and improving, as far as possible by yourself from your own will. Cause it’s all about liberating yourself and become cool by your own terms.
Owning something this obscure holds it’s protection in it’s obscurity. But now in this informational world obscurity is just a water fall. Everyone could step through it and becoming wet is nothing what people are afraid of anymore. More so people love to tell stories about getting wet just look around the worshippers of GG Allin. So here we are. We have traitors with followers trying to mimic us. While these things couldn’t be reduced to shirts and the listening to bands. I think like that major threat nike ad wasn’t nike’s evil plan to exploit and rob the punk community and label it with a cheap remark of an amazing ep. More likely there was someone in love with Minor Threat and thought it would be cool to drop a reference. Out from a semi-secret source. But even if it came from enthusiasm the idea was kinda lame. The thing is. That ep is still as good many many years later as even one of the biggest companies on earth couldn’t spoil it. Cause we are the cool ones. We are strong and self-assured. Money, shinning lights and nude bodies won’t buy my life up. If I buy a nike shoes I will do it cause I either like the design or trust it’s life-span against the ground I’m walking on.
I have to admit. Some of the bands I’m listening to are the best bands on this planet. So if people only like their music is highly believable for me. But just because someone had listened to some bands for a brief time s/he doesn’t know punk. Just to be among individuals won’t make you one of them. Maybe what we do is no secret anymore. They listen to the bands we like, read the zines we read and attend at concerts we go to, they wear the cloths we like to wrap around our bodies. We could be reproduced for a picture or for a video clip. Even someone could mimic that he is as cool as we are with waving a bad brains record to the camera. But who is cool that not gonna do this. The importance of knowing is most likely disappearing day by day. Am I sad because of it? A little. It’s kinda frustrating seeing something I love from the bottom of my heart being worn out by assholes. So what do I do? I don’t care about those dickheads. I do believe in everyone is doing what they want to do, so I’m not gonna start to try changing their ideas nor will I wanna make them leave and forget. I believe in creating alternatives. Options. Which already exist. This alternative existed long before the first punk song was ever written. And finally it got back home again filled with meaning. What matters today is what we feel and think. But I’d rather go with the feeling. Because it’s true, it couldn’t be bought, adopted, mimicked. By time goes and we still do the same, listen to the same music people will less likely understand why we still carry on. And that’s good. Cause they would have to feel it to understand. And what is really magical: They never will.
TLWFY - essay on bullshit # 4
That’s why i loved the hairdresser’s husband. Finally i didn’t have to care about keeping this image of not carrying. It was much better than to take lsd and have a bad trip so i can say it added to my character and i saw another part of the reality. Somehow we look on drugs as the real deal of life while they just as fake as movies. The only difference between drugs and fake, well let’s call them cultural objects is that drugs always work. While with something not as effective to get under it’s influence it needs us. As much as we need it. I only call things shit what i don’t need. And i terribly needed the hairdresser’s husband. It was the magic, the fun, the complete difference of what i experience or call true while i believed every minute of it. Proudly. It was magical. So i kept thinking. Why are we always embarrassed to tell we really like something even if no one suffered? Where no big shit happens. Just for the simple fact that we like it. Because it was fun. I look on punk pretty much like this. Sure i’d have some offensive, suspicious and always questioning everything side of myself if nothing shitty were ever happened to me but i like all my frustration to pass if there’s no big real reason to be in spite of anything. I’m angry cause this piece of shit world doesn’t let me love what i want harmlessly. I don’t really understand people when they say punk is not just fun. Or not fun at all. Even when it comes to do something which would live up many hours of my time or needs me in the way that i will be exhausted and tired i still do all of it cause it’s fun. Otherwise it would be a duty which is non-sense if i’m here by choice. I won’t do anything because i have to by a rule. Even when i let some unknown bands crash on my floor i did it cause i thought it would be fun. And when someone writes me a letter, asks me in person or calls me up for asking for anything i’ll answer it cause it feels good sometimes to help. If not instantly but in the bigger picture. I just love the pure pleasure of enjoying things without telling myself „oh i did this, i should be proud of myself for that”. I never was into hard work or sweating for nothing but for the questionable dignity of the aforementioned „yes i’ve done that”. Fuck that. Even when we are raising important questions and want to solve them we’re doing it because we want this.
It used to be hard. At the beginning you had to die, then at least got many killed by your ideas. You had to suffer, be creative. Then like not doing something was fair enough. I don’t eat in mcdonalds, I’m fighting capitalism. Now you should just blame and shit on everyone who does something and you’re ok. Heroism is much more affordable as heads are getting filled with hatred and disgust. Everyone always throw words like radical, creative, original. Which might be a goal for me as well but on the journey which leads to the end point I’ll produce other things which might not fit the three big adjectives but I’m gonna like them anyways. It’s one key of the whole thing. If you always just care about what’s new and never been done before you might miss what you like. Cause trying to do new things is only what you really like if there’s nothing you could like now. Otherwise it’s not the product what you’re interested in but in the social status that you’ll gain by inventing something new. Even with my new band which I couldn’t really put in any genre so I call it psychedelic oi but mostly we sound like early meat puppets minus the country bullshit changed to joy division and Ramones, as you see I can describe it with many bands who not just already wrote many songs but most of them broke up before I was even born. Does it bother me? No it isn’t. I can say that the modern world is not inventing new things by creating whole unique and new stuff but with putting some already existing things together to form a new aspect. As words, and notes are finite being original or creative is born before everyone. I stopped reading a year ago when I’ve realized most of the things I know I know from someone who wrote his ideas down and I’ve read them. So I rather think on my own and what I experienced is lots of times I see my ideas back from someone else. Which makes me a sad at first cause I lost the game. I’m reading back my ideas from her/him not the other way around. But then I’m kinda happy that I’m as smart as a man who’s been published. Maybe I should go back to reading. Especially when literature doesn’t interest me as much as music does. And as I pointed out I always played in some already existing genre. Sadly only movies can do what I really love. When a movie doesn’t have a classical plot, things are just happening or not and the movie is still great. For me in music it happens when I hear something that sounds amazingly new or true even if I know it’s not. I call it the ramones effect. Ramones wrote the most primitive songs with lyrics what hardly made any sense at all but they sound like the best songs in the world. And it’s almost impossible to reproduce a ramones song. So everyone who believes in his or her idea doesn’t matter how original, radical or unique it is and does it with enthusiasm it will surely sound, look, read great. For me that’s punk’s best benefit. I remember when I saw a footage of a YDI show in the american hardcore documentary. The singer went on stage and exploded. He moved like a maniac and there wasn’t a slight hint of any pre-thought motion. He did what he wanted on the stage. He wanted to put himself out and he did it without carrying a bit. That’s what disappointing in a way when I see a band being shy or afraid of the crowd’s reaction. I’m sad when I spy the lack of need to do what one thinks is fun. I just love the music and of course the ideas too. I’ve witnessed on myself that with getting out of school I’m not only interested in girls and not seeing a future but seeing what’s going on in the present. So I had an epiphany this summer during a tour. I was left alone in berlin’s own Köpi. It was raining my cloths were wet. I lost an austrian anarchist girl as a conversation partner to a german squatter. I toke a dump in the info center’s toilet where the sink was full with vomit. But on my way from the toilet to a shelter where my warm beer was waiting I realized where I am, how did I get here and what do I do. I had the time of my life. I was in berlin on a tour with my best friends. On a trip I booked solely. I didn’t know what day it was and I knew if anyone who’s not into this as deep as we are, they wouldn’t understand why I enjoy this. But I loved that. Not the fact of being unique in a different way but the secret I had which was why I’m having fun. I’m not punk all the time. In the meaning of sometimes I don’t force my punkness to x-ray everything’s legit status for my standards. I’m more likely let it work instinctively. Cause setting up and following rules is so easy. Especially if it works only with hatred. I hate this, I hate that, everything sucks. That’s a really sad way to live a life. Punk has this tendency to retain youth in ourselves. Which sometimes is the first element of a personality people tend to dump. And it’s sad. Kids usually just care about things they like and they like it because they think it’s good. And cause there’s no objective definition of something good other than it can’t be progressive rock or jazz it’s totally their liberate choice.
When I said I’m not punk all the time I meant I don’t always suspect some major conspiracy behind things what not just I but also maybe my mother would like. Listenable music is not always evil. And because it’s listenable of course more money will be in it. But I’m not listening to it because I take it serious other than I take serious my taste and the connection between that and their music. If it fits I have no problem with this. Maybe it’s my less true, spoiled or still childish side of myself. But I’m fine with it. Cause I still have my ultimate hunger for new, interesting or simply just good punk music. And music in general. But I’m a punk so I have my heart there. The thing is, it’s fun for me to keep my enthusiasm not as hard work. It’s not hard for me to deny parts of society, and capitalist culture what I don’t like. I like to have epiphanies after flushing my shit in squats and avoid most of the consumer society. Nothing is really hard and painful when you love to do it.