What do you mean about what I mean about the Season Finale? This is actually where you find out the weird secrets of Romantech Island, and like, tonnes of gripping revelations that explain everything. I just totally need a a top secret research facility with sinister clipboard holding scientists, that’s all, and we’re good to go.

Have you got one I can borrow? It’s just for the opening scene, and like the season cliffhanger at the end.

So, I experienced a fleeting moment of freedom when I started to figure wow, hey, we’ve gotten through a lot of rambling, it’s good we can start really trying to work out what else we can do except . . . until – we apply a concentrated effort to start writing decent blogs.

My first strategy is heavy editing, and less pondering – if we can crack a conclusion that can be thrown around why faff about with all the theoretical workings, going off on tangents with apologist anecdotes, why bother, if you try and say something rather than mumbling across multiple supporting paragraphs before you get to your point, you might come up with a more hard hitting post, that gets to people.

Also I have a habit of smashing one post into another, because I’m bored and just want to post my adsense ads up so I can squeal when I make $2. Just like this one, writing half a post about one thing and then writing the other half about something else, though I like the car crash sensibility when the blog suddenly veers off in another direction. Sure, be stylistically fluid but get concise, get audience focused and draw on what people want to read about not just some personal crisis I want to get off my chest.

This seems like a bit of a series finale, I reckon. Mainly because I feel like I’ve got a lot of rambling off my chest – once I got into the gender politics I figured I just ramble on about anything, and it’s hard to appreciate what it means to know what you think. It’s also because I’m keen to slow down a bit, I’m getting more and more confident that more money is not what I’m looking for right now, which is a relief. It’s knowing that doing less work is actually working out better, and so I’m starting to be less anxious about working less, even though I do waste more time, because i’m only kidding myself thinking extra money is not a waste of time.

It’s like my bank account has put me in the friend zone. No matter how close we get, we’ll never have any “real” fun.

In fact, it’s not the money, it’s I just I want to do something. Making money is the easiest and strongest way for me to feel like I’m getting something done, but it’s . . . I haven’t found the balance yet, maybe I need to keep readjusting my business effort down until such a point where I do feel bored and poor. Because feeling anxious about being bored and poor and actually being bored and poor aren’t always consistent.

But okay if it is a season finale, I want it to be a bit like Lost or something, where it just blows your mind. That’s why wanted this exposition at a research facility. But the producers are telling me we can’t afford all that they know I’ve blown out the budget, and they need to put this to bed, they need this thing in the can with a pretty bow on it.

I’m sure you’re all keen to find out what happens in the big fight between Fantasy and Reality. It’s what the fans deserve, okay? This is my art you’re talking about, if you want art, then I need a fucking top secret research facility, okay or you’ll never put this story straight.

I didn’t think Reality had the chops, but it’s a matter of whether fantasy can be beaten. Maybe Reality won’t lose, but can it win?

What about all the loose ends? The Friday Night Killer, the elusive desert fox, my therapy, what exactly happened there? In the fullness of time alright? Let’s just say it’s not in the budget right now, because we can’t afford an exposition with a top secret research facility with scientists you know that ONLY TIES THE WHOLE THING TOGETHER you RETARDS! God, I’m working with imbeciles. Retarded autistic baboon children with rabies and aids. That’s who I work with.

These people don’t seem to get it. They don’tunderstand. This is my blog, this is my art, and if you’re going to put a bow on anything in a can in a bed, my vision has an exposition with a frickin science laboratory, top secret research facility SO SORT IT OUT!!!

Okay. Thank you. God! Rolling with the top secret research facility cold open in three, two . . .

. . .

I would contend we have a very high level of research going on at the Romantech blog, although we have our issues like any other facility would face, we face challenges in problem solving and creative provision of solutions.

We have our psychotherapy centre as you will be aware, and we have research on cultural issues also being conducted.

I am aware some serious projects are going ahead in the labs at this time, but of course considering the important and broad ranging nature of the research we’re doing

In fact I might even start a think tank. Y’know? Like just get millions of dollars for like doing “research”, y’know?

We could provide a distinct lack of documented evidence of climate change. That seems like an easy job, just do a quick look around the house. Nope, no climate change there. Or we could research why Bob Geldof doesn’t like mondays. Maybe because . . . well it’s certainly not a straightforward question. $10 million should get us started nicely.

It will be the Romantech Group. We’ll have sinister meetings with bodyguards and stuff.

But for now you have to basically be excited about all the research we’re publishing, case studies, and some really interesting emulation experiments we’ve taken place.

That’s right we’ve take place. The other researchers and I happened earlier. It’s very modern technology and it’s under wraps but some of our resident fellows will presenting some of their research so you’ve got to put up with it.

Obviously the research is around observing the experiments going on around the facility with perceptions of reality and fantasy on the patients.

The results have been interesting, the iterations in perception of the patients is most revealing.

Brain transplants, conspiracies with neanderthal bloodlines, flying pyramids, tribal warrior fantasies . . .

Here we’re researching a choice . . . you always have a choice.

Now this next bit is an awesome sinister exposition where you like I’ve been cloned and somehow i’m all like cloned up in pods or like little weird kind of booths where I’m all hooked up with wires to my brain and you can see in one booth I believe I am a desert warrior, in another I’m the detective looking for the friday night killer, in another I’m a drum and bass DJ, space captain crash landed on earth, hamlet, in one booth I think I’m talking to my therapist, in the next, another clone of me is talking to god . . .

Maybe it could be shown with sinister scientists watching monitors so you can show what’s going on, but we don’t have to reveal that their are even clones. Forget I even mentioned clones. All you see is that I’m in this facility being tested, obviously playing out all the different roles of the season, so it’s totally a bit of an OMG moment.

MAN DID THIS SHIT JUST GET CRAZY WEIRD OR WHAT, RIGHT YOU GUYS?

shut up it’s not a “dream all along”! They’re clones in a frickin research facility okay?

Now we’re doing a flashback review so we can go back to like way way back and then bring the narrative together in the end where they break into the facilityor out of it or something I dunno, you’ll have to find out. It’s the big romantech season finale, okay? Like wow.

First I checked out the literary fail shirt.

Then I found Trollquotes. The post modern fun never ends!

I was trying to talk to my therapist, the reception out here is terrible. I’m actually prisoner of these menacing tribal nomads, proud warrior peoples of the desert I’m sure they drink blood sucking on a cow, all that kind of thing, y’know?

Care for a drink?

What have you got?

Cow’s milk with a squirt of Cow’s blood? Oh, delightful.

Of course it’s metaphorical you quack, I’m an artist! What am I paying you for? I don’t want to talk about my mother! The desert is a dangerous place. It’s an empty place. Where do you go in the desert? You wait and sit and try not to die too much.

I haven’t been well, doctor. These guys are likely to eat me or me bleed me out like vampires. Either that or I’ll discover inside I’m a spirit bird and end up banging the chiefs daughter as some kind of reawakening but to tell you the truth I don’t much fancy playing kevin costner today. I need some serious drugs.

And again it’s all some music song thing, from a dream, apparently I keep thinking I’m some kind of club music DJ and labels expect to write music for them. Who are these people? I get these texts about what’s happening with this or that song. What song? I don’t know any songs, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I fly with the bird people of the great sands, ok?

I told you doctor, I’m not well, and I’m having the strangest thoughts I need to be back on my medication. You’re no help. I just want to be understood here.

The only part of the treatment so far I see as successful is the bit where I can still afford to pay for whatever pills I’ve been put on. I woke up this morning feeling depressed but I immediately cheered up when I made $1200.

I mean can you see a problem here?

In the desert, there’s nothing there, and there’s nowhere to go. But the tribesfolk have learnt to survive.

I was stranded here in a philosophical quagmire, in a desert of unwelcoming possibilities, I saw a vision . . . it’s not an unfamiliar . . . peering deep into my own soul

My tribal name is Bird Likes Berries. Alright? Don’t give me any attitude, this is my blog, and I’ve joined a tribe of nomadic desert warriors and I’m known amongst them as “Bird Likes Berries” ok? Good. So basically seeing as I’m now a noble spiritual desert warrior I know a lot of wisdom and stuff. Probably I do chanting as well.

I wonder if hot girls are going to be into me now that I am a savage desert warrior. I don’t know. I could play a little flute or a drum or something it might be pretty deep.

But a hot girl is like 5 million dollars. Do you really need 5 million dollars?

The savages are not interested in a cool 5 mill, and they think your girlfriend would look hotter with a pipe sticking through her lip and her neck jacked up with a metal coil. There’s no accounting for taste, but while you’re here you may as well help yourself to some tasty “milk and blood” beverage.

Just when I think my purpose in music is becoming more vague and obscure, suddenly the triangle portal opens and my “do music” function is activated. I knew we were building this flying pyramid for a reason.

I dreamed that hot alien babes were waiting to take me to another planet where I was secretly awesome and cool.

Just like the last analogy I laboured, that of DJing being like sex and audio production like love, there’s a theory and a practice that may serve different ends and outcomes. But I wouldn’t build a spaceship unless I wanted to explore the universe.

So I had just updated my Twitter:

Following my brain operation, Hamlet, Don Quixote, Kafka and I are building a flying pyramid to escape the neanderthal renaissance #update

I like to keep my fans up to date with what’s happening with me. Of course frickin Don Quixote and Kafka weren’t there, I was just namedropping, it accentuates my brand.

There’s a rumour going round that I have given up on music, which is true but I did that months ago, so that’s not news. Well, technically, I decided to stop being a musician. Now these new accusations are suggesting I don’t care about doing music.  Well maybe I don’t, maybe I am just wasting space out of misdirection, but I think the outcome of the musician was that I want to tell stories with art and music is just one tool in the toolbox.

Art is . . . are . . . tools of expression and meaning. I don’t see the point in descending, capitulating against meaninglessness. I don’t see the point in giving up using music in your arsenal with which to combat ignorance. I do accept it’s time to let go of the idea of being some superstar DJ, because the idea of the superstar DJ, I just look at it as you would a kid playing with a toy. That stuff is for kids. Music has meaning, but all the ideas of being a bigshot and all those concepts, they’re just not real. Those vibes paint a picture where it’s not ok just to pursue art for the sake of it, it’s not worth doing unless there’s money or girls involved.

Unfortunately the thing about money and girls, is that best route is the most direct one, I’ve found. There’s no point becoming a superstar DJ unless you actually like doing the things that superstar DJ’s do, possibly more than you like money or girls. Which let’s face it, is a big ask.

But otherwise, you should hope we all find our purpose, something that expresses meaning and value outside of eating and shitting and fucking and lying there just gratifying yourself with the least effort required. And if making beats and DJing them as well sometimes is the lens through which you experience a more refined perception of society and nature and existance then it has value as that.

I exist as more than mere biology, because I make beats and I’d like to make more videos that tell stories that deal with stuff in life. What kind of stuff? Philosophy, Metaphysics, whether the structure of the universe is so that it has a will, and what does it want? Does the universe want me to enter thy pyramid and fly off with all the alien girls, or am I destined to remain?

I just want my tunes to be released. After that I don’t care. I just don’t see the point in reaching out for something if it doesn’t appear to manifest as particularly meaningful, it’s more important that my beats become what they have the potential to be, as long as some drum and bass label puts them out, I don’t care.

Being on a label whether it’s a crappy one or not just means people can listen to your music if they want to. I would just hate to think that the reason I’m not getting anywhere is because the music is not really available to be heard by anybody. But why do I want to “get anywhere”? Well “anywhere” is relative to where we are. I always want to improve but whether anything happens or not is a negotiation. Whether I’m where I’m at now, or whether I reach a peak of being able to play around the world without it costing me and having top DJ’s drop your tunes, you still want to progress, while as long as some label wants to put my tunes out then . . .awesome.

Girls and tunes are the same, you’re not going to just stop and say well, I’ve had enough . . . that’s it. You might retire or get married to attempt  make life less complicated, but you won’t want to stop doing things you enjoy. unless you stop enjoying them.

I don’t see myself stopping liking yummy food.

I don’t see myself stopping liking hot chicks.

I don’t see myself willfully rejecting an environment where I can participate in art and the value in it.

THE PYRAMID BLASTS OFF:

If I become a superstar then that might be nice. But right now I just want to access the knowledge of the triangle and probably also get more girls.

Which is good. Whatever I’m doing, whatever I was doing at that point – I don’t really know – I”ma keep doing it because we took the pyramid for a test flight and the results were extremely positive. I was doing whatever, I’d just eaten a curry after a work out and was feeling useless on a saturday with nothing to do kind of way (as I mentioned this whole thing of having nothing to do is something I haven’t felt in 4-5 years) and then suddenly the triangle hatch opened and I just spent the next 9 hours working on almost finishing 3 new tunes.

It’s pretty hard to finish tune completely within a short period becuase usually they need to sit and breathe for a few weeks. But y’know I don’t think I’ve ever done so much work on my tunes in such a short period, which as far as I’m concerned is raw triangle power – 10 years ago it used to take me a month just to write one tune.

And that’s just so excellent that on this blog we need to say yes, and good, and okay, and then yes again. So . . . more.

When you enter the triangular state well . . . it’s good. We need to have a research facility inside our flying pyramid so we can remain zoned in the triangular state for sustained periods at regular intervals.

Firstly it’s the confidence and security of knowing such things are possible and they can be managed. I can write 3 new tunes over 2 nights, or one epic long night, I can do that once a week.

And this is my feeling: that if I can do 3 songs like this every week – which is a lofty goal – I don’t think it could be bad thing.  I would be improving faster, each a shot a chance at going further than before.  As long as I did my videos then I’d be fine, but it’s all about getting in.

Let me zoom out so I can finish up:

Did you know that that means that this week, in the last 7 days, I have hit my money targets, pulled a girl from a club I’d only just met, and finished 3 sketches.

How about I just do that for the next 500 weeks?

I think that would be alright. Don’t you think?

What’s the story you’re telling?

It’s all about the story you’re telling, what’s it about? What’s the message in the narrative?

Well there’s the space captain, the DJ romantech, the pirate, and there are garden variety vibes existing in the street.

There is some subtext concerning the powdered tiger penis which is a metaphor for power and glory acquired swiftly by dubious means. Occultist neanderthals compound a theme of an ignorant society, while hamlet is the shadow throwing into relief the inevitability of our own demise.

There are other characters, but it’s clearly just Matt, who is a guy doing all of this. Matt is a marketing guy, matt is somewhat desperate to prove something. There is a sad yearning to be “somebody”. Though I think we see that Matt is an okay person and has a lot of redeeming merit, it is somewhat the desperation, the calculating, the unflinching willingness to compromise for true success that makes him also a pathetic figure.

It’s Matt’s “permanent dissatisfaction” which pushes him on, and seperates him from the world he seeks to inhabit because it’s never about fakeness or pretentiousness, it’s genuine earnest desire to participate at the highest levels. This tells a story about the true reasons people want to be recognised, validated.

Everybody wants to be important, and everybody thinks they’re important.

Is now a good time to touch on revisions and allusions to don quixote?

Too late! From Wikipedia:

“He has become obsessed with books of chivalry, and believes their every word to be true, despite the fact that many of the events in them are clearly impossible. Quixano eventually appears to other people to have lost his mind due to lack of sleep and food from dedicating all of his time to reading.

He decides to go out as a knight-errant in search of adventure. He dons an old suit of armor, renames himself “Don Quixote de la Mancha,” and names his skinny horse “Rocinante”. He designates a neighboring farm girl, Aldonza Lorenzo, as his lady love, renaming her Dulcinea del Toboso, while she knows nothing about this.”

Before I lose the thread where are the most fundamental connections? Well the concept of “adventure” I’ve talked about profusely and that is has a romantic, idealistic quality.

Don quixote is an idealistic dreamer who sends up the values of the era. For him it’s about being a chivalrous knight, for me it’s all about being cool and awesome, rich and famous and super socially buccaneering, but I never see that I am really a joke.

The character of Matt supresses a romantic fondness for the city and the night, in an attempt to be a hardnosed hustler, which always fails.

I should call my beamer “Rocinante”.

Everybody wants to be important, and everybody thinks they’re important.

I think it’s a battle of two individualisms, the romantic version which is in a lamplit park sharing innocent moments with some young girl, and the version that wants to be important, to feel that they have to matter more, that they do.

What is it? That the beautiful person, the smart person, fall into their own traps?

What is the end? The end is acceptance.

I roll like Kafka, they see me rolling, they hating – because I’m a giant bug – tryna catch me metamorphisizing – like they ain’t seen a giant bug before.

Wouldn’t you rather keep it up tight with the great masters than be some droning maggot hatching out of a dead dog’s ass? Because I was about to jump on Twitter – or you might say facebook but I’m not that far gone – but then I got scared because of all the neanderthals there who are consistently plotting to enslave me.

I’m almost positive that Kafka and Cervantes were not neanderthal descendents, but certainly if you log on to twitter and you’ll find neanderthals there. Maybe they’re not occultist neanderthals, they’re just kind of “meta-distracted”, I understand that concept, it’s times like this I realise just how easy it is to jam up your thought processes – I got no gigs or odious commitments that are likely to lead to this situation right now and boy am I upbeat about that.

It’s all about neanderthal management. Management of neanderthal related outcomes. People are on their facebook and twitter going on about nonsense that makes less sense than the conclusions of my thesis related to occultist neanderthal and powdered tiger penis conspiracies involving interdimensional space and time travellers.

I don’t get it but it frightens me. They are coming to get me.

In the story – but we know it’s not true, it’s all just a metaphor for alienation.

What is the acceptance there? It’s kind of open ended. Either I settle into something else, or I continue to range farther and wider in my attempts to follow various plans. It might end with me settling into a new format, it might continue with focus shifted from me.

But I think new themes are waiting, there’s the one about letting what other people think define your behaviour and whether you should do that, maybe exploration of my misanthropy, I don’t really like people, I don’t feel the need to be close to them, yet we long to be adored.

I guess it’s another way of illustrating the perversity of modern individualism.

just because you’re not posting a photo of yourself making sexyface in a bikini, doesn’t mean your array of pithy quotes and Instagram cityscapes isn’t a form of self-conscious brand creation.

Well, I am just still not happy about my video camera being pinched, because it’s hard enough as it is to get motivated to do video stuff. Pretty much.

Don’t try to be funny or dramatic, stop . . . I want to get some shots of this.

Don’t jam unless we can record it.

Don’t think, I want to write it down. Put it down on paper. Get it in writing.

What’s the plan? What plan? What about the plan? What are you doing?

Doing? Nothing. I’m not feeling it. I’ll conquer the world another day, because I’m tired. We’re on strike, get this down:

I quite like writing on my blog, mainly because I barely understand what the hell is going on. The struggle for better pay and conditions can be quite demoralizing, probably because of our expectations – there was always a chip in your head. But you can’t really expect much from a blog and nobody cares so that’s great.

We just want to do it. The magic triangle I often describe has the ability to isolate creative conditions and funnel all this output through, but sometimes you’re just collapsed there in a daze because you don’t know what the hell is going on. All the plants in my garden are dead. Well they’re not dead but I think they’re not healthy, it’s not right, I think it’s mould in the soil. What do you do?

You need to stick to the plan.

Well what’s the plan? What’s the story?

Have you got your emergency response strategy prepared?

What happened to the plan?

Why are you looking at me like it’s my fault?

What happened to the plan was: acts of god, earthquakes included, and then . . . well what would you know? Who are you to question my standard of emergency response preparations that are in place?

Look, I’ll tell you something, I’ll tell you a thing or two.

Would you have foreseen that as it turns out in the continuing saga of the mystery of the powdered tiger penis cartel, that Captain Romantech is potentially part of a long line of alien hybrids being hunted down by occultist nazi neanderthal type dudes, I mean . . . who knew? How do you “plan” for that? Obviously there’s a connection back to the tiger penis scene, everyone knows when Charlie Sheen talks about “tiger blood” it’s a link to the penis cartel. It’s obvious, so how’s your stupid plan now?

Didn’t see your contingency there for occultist neanderthals fighting tiger penis wars, sorry. Good thinking, sheesh!

But okay – some beat in the night, some joint where some cats are hanging, it’s the vibe in the city, it never dies because there’s something going on somewhere, that the inner city life . . . rain falls, fog hangs, the night is cold, but somewhere the vibe remains. But captain Romantech can’t send out the response team – I can’t be there because it’s not ready! Is it ever ready? Aren’t tours so good just so you can go to another town and even when you fail well who really cares. What does it really matter?

It’s a naff song, playing in naff bar or cafe somewhere where older people shuffle in their routine and you peer from the panes across the vista and . . . well what happened to the plan?

Who’s idea was it that we should end up here?

Who got paid off?

Who cares?

Well I just did so little last week, but I told you – I got sick of my god just not being very fair, always so unfair! . . . and so I went on strike. I took some time on the picket line, which might be right since mainly I just sat there and read stupid blogs. No mention of occultist nazi neanderthals closing in on the mystery of the tiger penis, how was I to know?

Too unfair. We walked off the job, we were on strike, but was it neanderthal descendents all along? No! Because god is often a dick and wants to see me in a situation, probably because he doesn’t see it as suitable for me to be cool and awesome, he wants some other douchebag to be cool and awesome instead, of for me to always wonder . . . sorry.

Sweating it out is for the hardened hard men, and crying it out is for the big fat cry babies. I blog it out baby. I’m blog haus for real, I’ll die self indulgently giving you too much unneeded information in regards to personally relevant thoughts you probably don’t even care about . . . I’m a menace, because no one knew how cool I make being pathetic, I will tell you all about it.

Hey, my blog, my time, deal with it, because I’m a tough guy. I’m reckless. I’m a maverick.

Oh god, I sound like I’m Charlie Sheen, except I wrote that over a week ago before his latest thing came out. But more tragically I was trying to be funny, which is a bit not really the vibe.

We’re trying to cultivate the post funny movement. What comes after dickheads screaming “Look at me”, because one day when are douchebags no longer funny? Where does the road lead?

Okay.

Look, you weren’t supposed to come until I FELT like maybe blogging about something good. I don’t want to blog about something good, I just want to complain until I can quite clearly see how indulgent I am before out of shame and reproach I decide to do something about it, or y’know, I get all the energy out and it’s gone and I go to bead and forget about it.

Or if you like, feel the cold steel of my narrative and I reframe, painting fears as hopes and nightmares as long wished for dreams . . . there’s your plan . . . yeah . . . uhh, what?

Look I Did some serious wallowing last week. The earthquake didn’t help just sat there watching all these sad bastards with nowhere to go – nothing to eat . . . if something bad happens to me, well . . . it will be bad. Got it? Forget the plan.

Bad move.

Yet again it’s some dudes on the phone and we’re doing deals and what not and I’m running around getting cash because I’m right where I don’t want to be AND THAT’S NOT THE PLAN.

Then, exhausted from too many moneys obviously . . . maybe, and yeah what I said, god coming and it’s all thunder lightening bolts down on my BMW’s and my printers, and I only wanted to go out with my camera, but no, had to take that too.

So I had to go on strike and we seem to have come to an arrangement, work at the factory resumes . . . but was that the plan? Has the revolution been thwarted, have the rebels been sold out once again?

Have we really moved forward? Does life spit on any narrative that tries to crudely restrain it’s formless progression . . . just stick to the plan . . . but has anything really been solved? Are we really going anywhere or is that another story?

Working is actuallly doing, and sitting round blogging is off in fantasyland, in the cloud.

At least we’re getting paid, which is a good thing in any case. But where are the tunes? It’s a lot of pressure, I’ve got to pay all these stupid bills, I gotta work. Getting the vibe is like cracking a safe, you’ve got to get the combination right, and not wanting for cash is always the first co-ordinate to set.

Which is boring, but hey, at least I’m not writing stupid blogs.

But I was a little bit fascinated by John Campbell and Ken Ring, sort of how I felt solidarity with all the lefty liberal media intellectual types poopooing Ken Ring, but mainly I guess I just read Campbell, who seems like a nice enough guy, trying to do his media watchdog fourth estate lefty intellectual media thing . . . basically protect people from stupid ideas, and then . . . all these lowbrow unwashed meat and veg dudes and borderline ignorant middle of the roaders bashing hell out of him.

It’s his job, y’know? Makes me wonder why he bothers trying to protect people from their own stupidity when they all just hate him for it. Because it’s his job. It’s not my job, and in so many ways I really don’t invite the need to put some stupid people straight like too many of my smug liberal contemporaries.

I only have to invoke my “lapsed atheism” and start going on about the “will of god” like a nutter to have people getting all smug and riding high when – if I can break character for a second – it’s obviously an artistic concept, in the world of romantech, god doesn’t like me that much or I would be dating at least 2 hot girls and both my BMW’s would be in good order as we eagerly awaited my next vinyl release.

Why do liberal lurkers feel the need to be smug and correct the dumb people? I honestly believe that the world is full of idiots, and most of them are nice enough people, but only 5-10% of this country, New Zealand, for example have actually bothered to think things through.

It could be 20% but I’m always guessing and when something like this campbell thing happens I just figure there must be teaming multitudes of them – the idiots, 97% of the population maybe. You see them on twitter all whinging and moaning and everyone everywhere moaning. I moan too, all the time here on this blog, but I reckon I have pretty lofty goals, including getting cash rolling in an epic style with multiple ladies, and I’m constructive toward that goal.

It’s important to get cashed up so you can have a nice ride, and look good, deliver exquisite and uniquely expressive insight in your art, and attract the attention of the ladies, and if some dolt wants to think that john campbell is a dicknose then that’s not really relevant to my situation.

Do a lot of liberal people feel the need to be smug and corrective toward stupid or otherwise ignorant people because they’re not fighting with god for the spoils of fabulous wealth, hotties everywhere and secret space access to all the triangular power to blast off to new dimensions of actual tunes and stuff?

Is that why they have to diss Ken Ring and be all high and mighty about how he’s an idiot? So what if he doesn’t know jack shit about earthquakes, who cares, he’s an old coot, if some other numbskull believes him, then . . . whatever. Leave them to it. Especially if they’re belligerent they could actually be neanderthal descendents.

Hitler could have been a neanderthal, he could of been like well . . . these jews are quite good with cash and talented and smart and neurotic and have big noses . . . – which is exactly what I’m like – let’s do some occultist rituals and destroy them because they’re probably non neanderthal lineage, probably alien mutant babies I would say.

And of course you have christianity, which is let’s face it:

AN AWESOME WAY TO CONTROL DUMB PEOPLE.

Say that you’re living in the dark ages and just as today, only 5-20% of the population can actually process thought in a normal way. How do you control these people?

Well you’d make a book with all this crazy stuff and dude in the sky making stuff, yada yada, and make you feel utterly stink if you didn’t do what was in the book because his kid got killed and he was a totally awesome dude, yada yada.

Perfect plan, so basically – occultist nazi neanderthal descendents trying to kill off judaeo christian human alien hybrids. But it’s not really a thing or anything, like trying to predict an earthquake based on the moon.

But it’s WAY MORE COOL. I never knew the Nazi’s were part of a bigger plan to kill all of the alien hybrid peoples which is a bit of a trip out.

But yeah whether Ken Ring is an idiot or not . . . is boring. I only cared about how people who think he’s wrong, just like me, feel the need to tell people who are wrong that they are wrong.

I seriously think if you were sitting there while cash just funneled in through chutes all around you and you had to beat off delicious, loving beauties as you composed the most freakishly taut story of uplifting sensation and dirty grimy expositions in audible space well you wouldn’t be on twitter complaining or writing some dumb blog all about stupid freaky ideas haphazardly spun from faux existential theology, absurd conspiracy references and garden variety intellectual gibberish?

y’know?

As for the interview itself, well Campbell decided to be the harsh guy . . . and Ring was going on about Richie McCaw? But Campbell apologizes later – again because he’s campbell and he has to respond and have his audience with him, idiots as they are. He’s just doing his job. If my clients are unhappy it doesn’t matter whether they’re right or not.

Which I guess again brings us back to the 5-20% of people who are shrewd enough to see a path through the rubble of humanity around them.

As for Charlie Sheen, he ain’t no Hunter S Thompson, he’s just a cokehead. Two and a half men is just so unfunny. There’s one guy on Big Bang Theory who’s funny for about 4 minutes. How I Met Your Mother has got another burnt star who plays a guy getting laid all the time while eveyone is all like boring and “what??” Just not funny, and somewhat conspiratorially I can’t help but think it’s geared toward encouraging the middle class to have “fun” be “individuals” and that breeding is boring, and not really that normal . . . because we’re growing up believing that being old is like being half dead anyway and the middle class will fight it with every dollar of their salaries whether they reproduce or not!

As for true grit and Jeff Daniels I think it absolutely blew Colin Firth, King’s Speech, No Country for Old Men out of the water.

But yeah, god is too boring, I reckon I’m going to become some kind of teutonic knight who’s trying to subdue all these masses of neanderthals and evolve a bit maybe, we are fighting god, we are in the teenage years of our evolution where we take control, don’t wanna die! you can’t make me! You’re not the boss of my organic structure! I hate you!!!

Now that’s some serious nonsense!

It’s a bit of a mess, to be honest. It’s a fine line between perceiving reality and self imposed limitation.

This is what I learnt today:

“Nowhere in the Bible is Satan described as ruling over or being in Hell. Throughout the Bible Satan is described as constantly on Earth.”

He walks the earth.

Hey now well that was quite a data dump yesterday wasn’t it? It was a wikileak. No, it was honestly, there are plenty of things that are not to my liking such as maggots and that’s the big news.

It’s only my eyes. Perception is everything but whoever said reality was a good thing? I totally spat the dummy, what a mess. I was battling god again really, don’t nobody know my troubles with god?

Why is it so damn hard. I just want to print this money, I just want to roll in my beamer, or maybe two. I just want to make some videos. That’s all I’m trying to do here, but it’s always got to be about some printer not performing, BMW’s that are prone to leave me liable, and then it has to be videos that don’t look that good. Why oh lord, is it this way?

Either my head is the wrong shape, there’s dirty great black borders around the thing, or it just looks all soft and low resolution like in the “problemantech video”. I’m trying to improve.

I’m not trying to hurt anyone. Oh lord, what is it that I am to know and come to understand? Is it humility or ascendency . . . or some so mysterious concoction of both?

Well we’ve got quite a bit of information to process, I didn’t realise how weird and twisted the revelations of not having a gig this weekend would be – since I’ve gigged every weekend this year, and that there was a lot of data to input.

Basically 2 items, the siren call of Lady Friday luring one to dash upon the rocks of uninspiring and tepid drunken conclusions . . . against the benefits of staying home and cursing the name of god for setting the will of this machinery against me.

No look, it’s all scientific here, I’m all about the database, tha needs to be in and on any bases of data and we need to put all the data into our calculations to get the best perspective on what this data can tell us about how our early ancestors may have gotten on a vibe and opened up a magic triangle.

So you gotta input lots of raw data ro get representative results that what my database is all about. I was just rankled because I was just minding my own business going into the new year and things were pretty sweet like I thought I had it held down, I was much more confident about pushing through, but then . . . too many spanners in my works.

Too many oh so familiar scenes to be played out, for to rely on a machine is to put yourself at it’s mercy, oh you printers, oh you BMW’s, oh you cameras, each representing a side of this triangle, that these printers may print cash, that these BMW’s may ferry hot girls, and that these cameras may see art and life and lies and reality for what it only could be.

I don’t want to do a business post because it is boring as hell, and I can’t take it. But my triangle is completely clogged and I need to get it all flowing.

These stupid business videos it’s driving me crazy they look awful, I just can’t seem to make them look any good, there aspect ratios and big black borders, and ratty resolution, learning to be a video guy is hard, and I think a lot things that you want to do a hard.

We know all the answers, our almighty lord in heaven has made it hard because – I don’t even call him “wotu” anymore because it sounds to palsy and it’s not like that – but anyway.

It’s hard because it is.

Like totally, just like this is a philosophy blog because it is.

Others whose printers and BMW’s and online videos are achieved without such struggle never truly know the joy it is to overcome, it is the only joy, for whatever is perceived, soon enough another goal will be seen as the ultimate pursuit.

But I don’t want any endless stinking pursuit!

I know what I want, I want to be rolling in t my beamer in my finest style, a nice shirt and a jacket, a little something something and somewhere to go, is that so hard? Or do I make it hard?

Because I don’t need to be going anywhere, and I don’t need a hottie to make it mean something, that’s not always the story to be told. Where’s the vibe?

But if you don’t need to be anywhere with anyone then what’s the story to be told by clothes and a car? What’s the story? I can go out and ask strange people about parties and find out where it takes me.

If I spend one night going around looking for weird people and parties to go to and then I shoot a bunch of weird arty footage and just melt it down to the bare essence and add narration . . .

Louis Theroux does that so well – really he’s just standing around looking awkward, it’s the deadpan narration that makes him come across in that casually curious tone. He’s a good example of how you can film all sorts of stuff and then just bundle it all up in a tight narration reference.

But who am I? What am I driving around talking to people for? Because I am a space captain who has come to earth to get vibes. Why does the space captain have to roll in style? Because there’s a subtext that I’m not a space captain I’m a dude looking for the essence of his youth. I’m sure it’s a lot deeper than that but that elevator will at least take you down to the next level.

It’s about post individualism because the vibing party is one of the few places where normal people can see the opposite of individualism working in a powerful and positive way. Obviously we know there’ll be dumb people and drunksploitation, but I think eventually we might find good people or a good party to push out the story, even to one of a spiritual pilgrimage.

Because I want cash to jetset around the world and visit all my girlfriends and rock out mad beats and video how cool an strangely funny I am – why would that be what I want, oh lord? Why would that be what I want if it wasn’t a good thing? Why would that not be right?

Where does the voice that calls come from? Do the answers lie at the end of Friday night’s rainbow . . . on a sunday maybe? Calling voice metaphors, Sirens and other greek favourites, Odysseus etc., Rainbows . . . when you only have to talk for about a minute over the length of a 5 minute video, you can mean a lot without really actually saying much.

To start with a reference to myself that can be extended to somebody I met or a mini situation . . . you can say it . . .

“Why do I drive around in my BMW, all dressed up with nowhere to go? Because I believe. I know the vibes are out there waiting for me and so I am ready. Maybe it’s blind faith, but we’ll see.”

Y’know, to start chatting up some hipster chick by telling her you like making videos for youtube and then being able to ask her if you can film yourself trying to impress her by telling her you like making videos for youtube and . . . yeah.

“I’ll let you be in my videos. You don’t have to be my girlfriend if you don’t want to.”

But the space captain is not that desperate he’s a little bit like the littlest hobo.

TIME MACHINE BINGO

Now I’ll tell you some more. Once upon a time there was business and then a gig.

Too much business and too much partying and gigs, I don’t even know what’s going on. It’s not the right one. Too many gigs, too many parties, too much going on, and then . . . everything disorganised.

I have to clean house. You know – vacuuming, mopping, etc. if I’m working and partying my house is not in order and I’m not venturing toward the zen moment of expression. If you want to write crappy tunes then don’t worry about your triangle, but I’m trying to level up to bring a new standard in my sound, so I want everything right, the flow that allows you to ascend can’t happen if you’re concerning yourself with endless nonsense that effects your inner concentration and focus.

If I’m not going to make an effort to make the tunes better than they’re not going to be better. Except the only way is to access the triangular zone, and currently there’s too much nonsense clogging up my triangle. Too many gigs and parties. I am not accessing the secret triangular capsule of knowledge, so it seems like the gig is a better option. But I am honestly starting to think I don’t care about gigs if it means I can’t even take the time to try and access the magic triangle button control. It’s the same deal, too boozy at the gig rocking out and not zenning on my vibe ready to bring forth the power of the triangle.

The whole idea of wicked DJ guy seems dumb, again, I’m going to try and play a set that people will enjoy, so either they do and that’s good, or they don’t and that’s too bad for me, what else am I meant to do? Keep playing gigs every weekend? Well, I don’t want to.

Being good at putting shapeshifter and state of mind tunes together isn’t really saying anything, it’s like a sweet BMW, it’s awesome to ride around in, but it doesn’t really make you better . . . you can enjoy the ride, but y’know, so what? It doesn’t mean anything.

I got me a beamer and I dropped this sick mix. But I want to write music and do dumb videos to talk about and describe stuff. Stuff that means stuff. Meanings in stories.

It’s not only about the triangle opening, but also interacting and adventuring, becoming disciplined in my process, yet flexible, it’s about adventuring toward the good tunes, rather than plopping out some crap some label somewhere might sign once it’s been steamed, buffed and battery farmed for consumption.

Well the maggots are back, they are certainly my spiritual animal. Or something. I was like “It smells like something died in here.”

And it was deadmau5 . . . well actually it wasn’t deadmau5, just a dead mouse. I was going to charge a tenner and hype the whole deal except that he had died in my secret experimental testing zone so it wasn’t appropriate. I wonder how it died?

I wonder if that’s it for the mouse scene here? Oh well. Maggots are living in your back now, buddy, which is a timely reminder for us all that when you keel over, the maggots are “gonna getcha”. They don’t really care what you did with your life, they are going to hatch and fly off to be some disgusting insect.

This weekend I am not playing any gigs because I have to get myself together. I know that when both my beamers are safe and sound and I have tidied up the lawn there won’t be so many issues, or so I would like to think – in any case, these stupid things lurking around my to do list are not wanted, I’m sick of the sight of it.

How long a list of “things you’ll never get round to doing” do you want to make? I don’t know, I don’t feel like I can get deep on this. I’m just sick of second rate vibes, and I can only blame myself for lolling about hoping and wondering when my actual issues such as in this case the state of my BMW’s – were going to fix themselves.

I think a lot of people don’t understand real vibes and so they’re happy with second rate vibes, and I don’t want it.

I read a blog post that said all the same stuff about how if I want to make my blog better I have to write about stuff that helps people – my audience – solve their problems, which is not great because I’m not that good at solving my problems, that is, mainly that I’m not a millionaire with about 3 hot girlfriends, and a string of international drum and bass hits, and bringing deft tragicomic satire to youtube with my modest yet challenging vignettes. But hey. I’m working on it, and if you have this problem too, maybe we can share ideas and that kind of thing.

It’s existentialism, art and lies. I can’t really speak for the rest, to be honest.

But if you did want to read a post about how to blab on about a whole lot of boring stuff and get it out of your system maybe I could be qualified to help with that.

I’m definitely qualified to instruct on moaning, moping, procrastinating, tail chasing, all the kind of stuff, so this is a blog especially for people who have the problem of always snapping out of their numb headedness, whereas I’m adept at making stuff like mowing the lawn into a saga that lasts weeks, because it’s boring, I guess, and I will battle the gods.

Look, I have way too many stupid ideas in my head to mow the damn lawn right now. They are about to hatch into disgusting insects and come flying at you.

Is it just that after every boring thing there is another boring thing? No, if I believed that I would probably stop, it’s because I’ve had those moments when I sensed normality and evenness was close to hand, so no gigs this weekend. I like it, but I don’t.

I had a sobering revelation about the true nature of friday night. She only calls you so seductively when you’re alone and quiet and hadn’t made any plans. But that’s what I’m saying, someone shows up with some second rate vibe, and I don’t want it. I’m happy with my own second rate vibes trying work out how this stupid magic inner triangle works.

I hope the radiohead album isn’t that good, I don’t know what they think they’re playing at. I’m just trying to live a normal life I don’t need these showing up dudes rearranging the furniture in my head.

Have you seen “An idiot abroad” that’s a funny show.

But I think the king was very good to organise a revolution for yall because it was a lot more interesting than just having to admit that life is full of boring stuff, and moaning and whinging about it and being sad and boring, and going naffcore like David Brent and becoming a maggoty dead mouse

The king is like a zookeeper who tries to keep life in the enclosure stimulating.

Activities include a revolution with lots of confrontation and intrigue – which is a lot more interesting than mowing the lawn, but as it turns out – having a spare black BMW and letting people use it in casual parley was a ridiculous vain indulgence.

So after the revolution it was agreed new legislation was enacted, the limits of our exposure – our obligations and responsibilities – would be curtailed, the official position is “don’t touch what you can’t afford.”

Don’t leave me to take the hit, just because I can, and I’m too easy with the habit of rolling my eyes and pulling out my wallet everytime something goes wrong and it’s becoming an ingrained reaction.

As I will talk about, it creates this atmosphere where the permissable attitude which I’ve allowed to flourish is “Well why doesn’t Matt just cover this, because we don’t need the stress . . . right?”

No it’s the default measure!

Okay so the other beamer is overheating again. Who’s fault is that?

Well, yeah, mine ultimately because if I want to have 2 cars, then the other car has to be merely collateral. Having 2 nice cars is not . . . it’s not a very good idea.

NAFFCORE MOVEMENT

I quite like naff music because . . . I don’t know, being an entrepreneur and a drum and bass guy is so uncommon and niche and segregated. It’s not even cool anymore like it used to be, it’s just different, but naff music is about the kind of music normal average common people like to hear.

It’s real music. Most music I like is just some weirdo thing. Naff music is normal music that most (middle aged) people like.

I hear it and how it’s all overwrought with emotion – all the power ballads and really naff stuff that I love. I just think how many people are listening to that exact same naff song right now on some easy listening station, all over the world. How many people, mainstreamers and otherwise are listening to this song right now, distantly analysing and reflecting on the naff lyrics?

It’s kind of post ironic. There’s been a lot of use of naff music for ironic effect in arty independent leaning films – It’s vaguely tarantino but that’s more retro hip.

I just love that scene in “Boogie Nights” . . . “I wish I had Jesse’s girl”.

That is the essence of naffcore. You’re just there and this naff song is playing. And you’re like . . . with a naffcore anthem you can’t fight the power of it. You know it’s naff . . . and yet . . .

You know the final countdown is naff, and so is the riff to Van Halen’s “Jump” which I actually prefer.

“Drive” by the cars, “I’m not in love” 10cc, that is heavy naffcore business. Supertramp when he breaks out into ” . . . tell me who I am . . . who I am . . . who I ammmmmm . . . ”

I can’t imagine hearing that song in a public place and not having a little naffcore moment inside my head. Having a bit of a Donnie Darko moment. Something Happens . . . But yeah, there’s so many naffcore songs it’s hard to really pinpoint the top 12 but I think I should try. It would be about maybe starting with 40 odd of the biggest naffcore anthems and then whitling it down to a nice little representative spread that would be the spirit of naffcore.

Cat Stevens isn’t really naffcore, I mean he doesn’t write naff music, but he does count as an artist you’re likely to hear in a space where you are standing there just trying to do your thing and you’re listening to some Cat Stevens and the guy is on a heavy trip that you don’t need.

I mean “father and son” is . . . great song but y’know? Do I want to even . . . no, I don’t want it. I don’t want that vibe!

But we’re on a heavy whingecore moanwave flow so we’re going to leave the super hit smashes of “this is what I call naffcore” and get onto another metatheme which is how I nerdily don’t like dominant people and how I refuse to act dominant so people would goddamn listen to me, which is what I would do if I was half as smart as I think I am.

This is what I don’t like.

I don’t like the social hierarchy because it creates this situation where whoever is the most domineering controls the outcome, and the same abilities that allow one individual to control the outcome are not the same abilities that would lead to the outcome being for the common good.

Like the story of the slug and the kitten, we all have different gifts. My gifts are in the areas of thinking and that’s why I’m a big advocate for thinkclub, artthink and also prothink, all of which of course I just made up. But I’m a serious thought activist. And so thinking away I’m like, well . . . you’ve heard what the king sees, I see things for what they are.

I am aware that if I fixed my posture, spoke in a lower voice, regularly gamed on people – guys as well as picking up girls, actly subtley more aggressive, then I would probably have more social status and I’d be more persuasive, and people would listen to what the hell I’m saying to them.

But is that what I want to do? Is that what’s going to fix the world, if I act in a way as to psychologically trigger the respect of lessers?

That just sounds like you’re acting like a prick. But it’s what people – those who are more submissive – respond to. I have a submissive personality but of course I am aggressive in the area of my thinking so I never do what I’m supposed to because most ideas I hear are never as good as mine.

But it shocks me how little I am able to control and influence the people around me. Sometimes I feel like my life is an attempt to prevent the people I let close from knocking over my painstakingly preserved house of cards.

You think I pull this money out of my ass?

My favourite metaphor is this – I’m 5′7. If someone says to me I’m short I’m not going to argue with something that’s fairly self evident, and changing light bulbs is probably not best task I’m suited to. I don’t get upset about it. Similarly, possibly because I refuse to arbitrarily display dominance, no one listens to a word I say, making me a hopeless leader or organiser.

It’s just offensive to people if I point out that the fact I make twice as much money as them for probably half the actual effort, so when it comes to making plans, and especially logical analyses, evaluation, basically areas involving thinking, that’s for me.

Oh but to accept I’m smarter is submissive, and so anything of importance really just falls along a spectrum of status.

I’d probably be better off aggressively arguing with people that I am not short, which to me seems pointless, but is the only way to signal dominance to others.

I feel honestly like I’m about to stumble across the statue of liberty at any time, we’re surrounded by apes here!

It astonishes me how ready people are to fall in behind the shouty chest beater with the biggest bark. I so often form alliances with people who’s skills and “gifts” are mainly social ones whether they be leaders, organisers, or persuaders.

Which is partly highlighting that behaviour that even I will look to a “leader”. But being analytical, I’m the one who sees a leader is good at dominating, creating social cohesion etc, but they may not have the best ideas or the best intentions, but as long as they have that personality type, it’s certainly valuable.

I’m just throwing these ideas out there because I’m watering the seed of something.

I’m feeling naffcore and I think that the perception and reaction of people to dominant traits maybe a key part of post individualism. Part of the problem is the reaction of the masses. They want to be lesser, they want their macdonald’s and their porn and their farmville.

That’s part of the puzzle, it’s probably bound to be some chaos theory thing, some unintelligible pattern of life folding in on itself . . . but what does it mean?

It means you’re on one messed up existentialist blog, sorry.

It’s the atmosphere basically. No second rate crappy no good vibes, we don’t want substitute rehashed factory farm vibes we want real vibes! I’ve been working on something, I’m sure it was something.

I just decided to start babbling about naffcore and post individualist notions because I’m working on it, I’, growing some ideas and so we have to see how they turn out.

Well you might be expecting a Valentine’s Day message from Romantech but that will have to wait, due to the unfolding unrest.

There was a high level of disatisfaction I’m noticing amongst the rank and file.

So I was moving to organise a stop work meeting or even a strike to show how serious I am about issues effecting the everyday people in the street, and we might have to down tools and walk off the job. There’s been a lot of talk I know, and it’s not good enough. Are we going to take it, the fat cats dining off the back of the workers?

But chumps whinge and whine and moan rather than doing anything and taking action to forge their destiny, it’s a self fulfilling prophecy – don’t get me wrong, I complain and moan and mope all the time, it’s a karl lagerfeld thing, never happy. “permanently disatisfied” in search of something better. But the more you whine and bleat, the more you end up the guy who whines and bleats and never does anything to arrest the situation.

So I may have to consider sending in scab labour, and the bully boys in blue – the state strong arms, to break the back of this workers unrest. Every hour is costing this factory money.

The workers are demanding hotter girls and rolling in more established style. Where are the vibes?

Questions are being asked at the highest levels, and shareholders want answers. Who exactly stood to benefit from lavish funds allocated to BMW maintenace, and who is responsible for alleged incidences of negligence? What were the recommendations of the committees findings? Where are the aforementioned deliverables listed including items such as new remixes and tunes?

Everybody in the club was acting on recommendations based on the committee’s findings, as tabled in their latest report.

Look, the king was extremely disquietened by allegations of statuswhoring in the club. The king is not wanting to see such individuals debasing themselves in such a manner.

So you can see a lot of tension here surrounding the situation at hand. There is confusion amongst the parties at the head, but down here in the streets the mood is charged but there is a real sense that change could be possible. That would require the exit of the zombified DJ kings who are known for staggering forth to snaffle all the cash, girls that are around and to put down a sick mix.

Commentators have suggested that production is robust, and the army are not prepared to admit they are not in control of the situation. Today crowds streamed through the streets chanting and demanding nicer girls and more time to chase them.

Behind closed doors, shady background figures were party to backroom deals which would see outstanding consigments delivered and tunes completed to specifications.

Firebrand leaders from the grassroots movement reason that if production has been strong, and requirements for tunes are being met, than why are the resource advantages and opportunities being squandered on BMW’s and gigs of spurious merit when the people on the street are crying out for better quality girls and videos of themselves on youtube?

The King has learned that operatives on state funding conducted occassions of boozed up revellry and DJ performance. Targets that were girls, were acquired and engaged, but not really that nice, So why are we going to stick around when it’s all some status war over something that might not really even be about art, really just about mixing state of mind into shapeshifter and the girls are not even that nice.

That is where captain romantech crashes to earth to discover where the secret vibe is.

These findings tabled suggest that the club is not the happiest place in the world and that the army should be held accountable to conduct a significant withdrawal, thus breaking our commitments to allied nations wishing to be all that up in the club.

Should the failures be blamed on incompetence at the highest levels of the military?

Were reports falsified to justify military escalation?