Thursday, July 31, 2014

Cactus Zach, Maggot B & B, Drink My Whine

I wish I could have a cage match
with every shitass customer I meet.
Been feeling restless lately. Having trouble sleeping and been more irritable at work and at home. I have been drinking more coffee and not working out the past week which is probably what the issue is. I haven't felt like this since I was a little boy and I got "Jello Legs" after a tubing trip I went on with my dad. Then I spent the whole night waking my mom up because I was terrified of being alone at night. Kerry King bless her for watching Winnie The Pooh Bear with me until I fell asleep. It's tough staying motivated sometimes, especially when you are always burnt out after work both physically and mentally. I know I talk about stupid people a lot, but I meet some real space cadets day to day. For example a meat-head fuck-shitter came in the other day. At my work we give out numbered CD discs so that we can bring your order out to you when it's ready. I rang up this confounded self-tanning turd-tarantula and handed him a numbered CD-R and he says to me, "Is this my receipt?" These are the cesspool gargoyles that I deal with daily. And they all vote.

Other than "Heretic Anthem," 
this is my anthem. 

Seeking tenants like this.
I have been trying to be less of a shit-kicker though. I have been working on a guest bedroom in my house to hopefully become a place where touring bands can stay and eat a nice vegan meal. I normally would be more apprehensive about opening my home to strangers but in my experience touring bands are usually courteous and grateful to have a place to stay. I work early and I live in a sober house so I feel like most of the shitbag bands will probably prefer to sleep on the floor of a party house. But I am hopeful that musicians like me will enjoy having a quiet spot to hunker down after a night/several nights of constant socializing and late night noises. I hate that shit when I am on tour. Despite my misanthropy I usually enjoy talking to people after a show especially since my adrenaline is usually pumping. In fact I have been told that people have trouble even getting a word in with me after a show. Even though before the show I sulk in the nearest shadowy crevasse muttering to myself about how shitty the show will be and then I am almost always pleasantly surprised. You gotta set the bar EXTREMELY low for every single show. If no one throws feces at me, it's been a good night. But unfortunately the venue situation in Grand Rapids is really shitty right now. If you don't want to play a bar then Grand Rapids is kind of a shit-box. So I'm not really sure if my pad will be used that much but I feel like it's worth a shot.

Ruined mosh pit.
Otherwise I have been whining about how I can't get a local show for Ruined to save my life but then last night I got us on a show that was being booked for August 20th at Spoke Folks here in GR. So I guess all that whining actually paid off in the end. Otherwise I am looking into some possible fests that we could play in the next few months but of course we are limited by our transportation issues still so who knows what will happen with that. I have a bad feeling that I won't be able to remedy that until I get my tax returns next spring which would fucking honk major shit-hammers. But I guess until then I will just fuck around Gun Rule for a while and maybe get a gloom fan base going around here. I am not holding my breath for that but who knows maybe some emotive emu's like me will wanna get down on some gloom. I did write/record a new song today that turned out alright. It's an old song I wrote 2 years ago that I improved upon and polished up a bit. All in all, I really phoned this post in again guys so sorry if you have read this far already. I am fucking hungry again like always and I get distracted by that. Anywho, God hates us all and shit. Merp.
The next show we're playing.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Cerberus Cerebration, Misappropriated Misanthropy, Holy Pit

I have a lot to complain about today so I will give you all a brief overview of my life since the last time I posted on here. I have been listening to several different records lately: "In The Aeroplane Over The Sea" by Neutral Milk Hotel, "Superunknown" by Soundgarden and "Frigid Stars" by Codeine have been plays at work for this cowboy. Specifically the song "4th of July" by Soundgarden is totally rocking my shit. Heavy as fuck and the lyrics are incredible. I haven't been playing my bass nearly as much as I should despite acquiring a new combo practice amp for my room. I am hoping to practice a bit on my own before practice with Sky today, I have been slacking off at learning vocal parts I wrote weeks ago. I have been playing acoustic guitar a lot lately though so that has been nice. I have been reading old Guitar Worlds that I had from when I was in high school whenever I go to the bathroom. I was reading an interview with Jack White from 2004 (blows my mind that it's been 10 years since the first time I read the article.) But he talks about how he has always thought of things in three's with The White Stripes music and life. Hence the red, white and black color scheme they use and also the rhythm, melody and lyricism of their music. I think I am kind of similar in a way. I enjoy putting myself in a box and seeing what I can create within the confines of that box. Other times I start with a box and I end up smashing it to pieces. Either way, it seems to work every now and then. It is almost impossible for me to not write a song that sounds gloomy though. Even if the music is very major sounding I always end up crying over it like a turd. A big whiny turd pterodactyl.

This made me laugh so hard.
Man after my own heart. 

Lately I have been thinking about identity. I have been reflecting about the things I identify with and also trying to understand the way others identify with their respective "scenes" and the contradictions within those scenes. For example, I consider myself a misanthrope which by definition means that I probably shouldn't identify with any groups whatsoever and yet I do so from time to time. But even the fact that I affiliate myself with a group of people who hate humanity and that the definition of such a group has been developed and refined by wiser people than I over several centuries seems like a laughable contradiction. Basically I relate to people who hate people, which shouldn't make sense and yet it works. But I have found misanthropy and hatred to be wonderful forms of seclusion that help to divorce myself from the distraction of vapid people. Whereby from the cleansing ashes of my volcanic hatred a vast clearing is made for fertile soil where I can let my love germinate and the roots of that love can grow deep into the crust of prosperity. I most certainly love fewer people, but I find that I love them fully and more genuine than most. The point I am making is that don't try to talk yourself out of hating someone if you do, and focus on loving the few people you do love. As always though, I am a shit shingle clinging to the roof tar of a desolate domicile abandoned long ago when people had perspective and character.

"After coming into contact with a religious man
 I always feel I must wash my hands"
-Friedrich Nietzsche
On the subject of hate though, here is a rant for all of you. A subject I always try to ignore but given enough time I begin to choke on the bubbling furor of my hatred. Apparently though this is an issue that still has not been resolved and most likely never will. But that's no reason to decline an invitation to join the fun! For those of you who don't live in Grand Rapids I will explain our fair "community" with four words: Christian "Punks" & Craft Beer. I put quotation marks around "Punks" because there is no such thing as a Christian "Punk." For the sake of simplicity I will continue to use that taxonomy but being Christian is not fucking punk. I didn't make the rules I just abide by them. Now this begs the question of defining what "being punk" is, and that is a greater question for another time. But I will surmise this account by simply using the analogy that though we may not know what "being punk" is, we all know what "being punk" is NOT. But back to the Bubonic business of Christianity within a music scene. First of all, when the entire hardcore or D.I.Y. ethos came to fruition all those years ago I was not there. But I also know God wasn't making zines or turning police batons into bubble gum either. Underground music was a complete negation of popular thought and theology. That's why it was so good, there was so much to be pissed off about and it spread like unholy wildfire. But regardless I understand social science and I know that things evolve and in fact should evolve. So now we are here in modern day and what a sad sight we see. A bunch of God boys coming around ruining everyone else's black mass mosh pits and potluck blood orgies. Now once again a scene should be tolerant (not accepting: the language is important) of many different ideologies and life paths. People should always be tangled in vicious trust within a scene. It is abhorable to have everyone in a scene accept everything and confront nothing. That's why misogynists, homophobes and racists wonder freely among us, and Christianity is an umbrella for all of these people. More to the point though, I have felt the sting of exclusion from this topic because of my hatred of Christianity. As if I am the fucker because I make the shitty Seraphim uncomfortable. My final point is this you children of the innocuous light; you have the Earth, the sky and the rest of eternity to live within your delusions. Leave the underground and the dark spaces to us heathens. We don't need you and we don't want you. Go play with your invisible father figure and leave your musical mechanisms behind. We need them to warm our veiled fortresses and feed our hungry hearts. Stay Gloomy, Remain Fallen.  

"Cool in the waterway, where the baptized drown."  

Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Dingo Ate Your Happiness, A.C.A.B. Forever, Welcome Mat

Listening to "The Monad of Creation" by Mournful Congregation right now on LP. Specifically the song "When The Weeping Dawn Beheld It's Mortal Thirst." Absolutely incredible. This band gives me chills every time I listen to their music, especially on LP. There is just something about analog technology that makes it a cohort to the spirit. I am truly hopeful that I will be able to release Ruined's first full length on vinyl. Which recording for that record may start sooner than I expected. Sky and I are putting the final touches on the longest song on the record today and will probably get a good spring on another song before the day is done. As of right now I have 6 songs and am roughly at about 50 minutes worth of material. "The Monad of Creation" is exactly 60 minutes long so I think I am going to try writing 1 or 2 more songs before we're through. If those Aussie Doom Dingo's can do it then so can a couple of Michigan Gloom Geese.

So fucking gloomy.

"I'm sorry I thought this was America!"
Now for more complaining! Boy complaining sure is fun! I think it's healthy and important to release frustrations in a constructive and sometimes meaningful way. I don't lose sleep hoping to make things better or to change perspectives, this is just one maggot's inconsequential reflections. So with that being said, here's something that really cooked my cantaloupe the other day. I was scrolling through MY TUMBLR PAGE the other day and saw a post about a traffic cop. Basically it was just a picture of some random traffic cop and he was explaining about how it's his job to write tickets and that if it were up to him he would only write warnings but the system won't let him do that. So basically he was saying, "The system is fucked, I am just doing my job. Nothing personal." I am not even confused by that statement, but why do people feel the need to defend people who are in no way in need of being defended? While true victims go unheard and violently ignored? (Oh right...the fucked system that everyone thinks is super coo...) Listen, Johnny Mc-Mace-You-In-The-Fucking-Face-Without-A-Moments-Hesitation, (that's his Christian name,) does not need your help. He is doing just fine without you. I don't care if he is just an average Joe just trying to pay the bills. And I don't care if a few bad apples make the rest of them look bad (which statistically speaking is HIGHLY improbable.) They still willfully ignore their compatriots of pain and reap the rewards of their demonic fellowship. So please stop making excuses for them, fuck cops and leave it at that. I will never understand the desire to be obedient. Whether it be to a fictitious being in the sky or drones with Kevlar carapace. It is a disregard of the hues and transience of the universe. Constantly shifting and changing into infinite chasms of possibility. People worry too much about what they don't understand. They have to feel safe in order to carry on. "The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance." -Alan Watts.

Post show ritual.
On a more personal note, I have been thinking a lot lately about my participation within the world. Now as you know, I hate all of you with intense putrid animosity that makes me puke bile made from the ectoplasm of every dead person I may have ever liked who is gone forever and out of my clawing reach for companionship. Well, maybe not you specifically, in fact I probably could stand you all for a few minutes. But that is precisely my point, for the most part the people I know within my "community" or "scene" are people I generally like.  And I understand that as a musician, it would be nice to reciprocate to the overall music society. So I have been considering opening my home to touring bands in an effort to help out in my local scene and also help carry the burden of touring for all our road ragged souls out there. I also have been wanting to branch out with my vegan cooking so I feel that a comfortable sleeping situation and a hot meal would go well together. And if there are other musicians out there like me, when I get done playing a show I wanna get the fuck out of there and go to wherever I am sleeping so I can sit on my laptop and relax and go to bed as early as possible. My house would not be a place for party pissants or obnoxious oxygen obliterators. So I know that my house would maybe not be a first choice for some people, especially since we are a sober space. But honestly if you can afford to tour and party then you are probably an over privileged shit shingle anyways so they could fuck right off. Anyways, that's just something I have been kicking around the ole gloom water cooler. Who knows if it will actually come to fruition. Anyways, I should go practice bass. Bass is coo. Stay Gloomy. 


Thursday, July 3, 2014

But I Being Poor Have Only My Dreams, Sample Soap Box, Fun Is Dead

Me during my early 20's
I had several dreams last night that galvanized me this morning. I had one dream where I was on tour with some big deal band but while they took a tour bus we had to follow them around in our shitty van. Which to me was way more fun and I almost felt sorry for the guys on the bus. As much as I would love to sleep and read while some other guy does all the driving I felt a great sense of determination from that dream. I'm pretty sure it stemmed from my subconscious reacting to my conscious knowledge of Wreck and Reference's last show with Deafheaven that I saw posted yesterday. If I reached that level of success where I could cart around my band in support of a band people actually liked I would probably be totally satisfied with my ambitions. As any long time readers of this blog may know, (as if you exist,) I have always had a curiosity about oneirology: the study of dreams. I don't put any faith in believing that dreams have any sort of realistic pull on our lives, but I do believe that they can be our brains attempt to find answers for itself. And the simple fact that I hopped out of bed and immediately started working on music means they do have some impact on us in our everyday lives. I have made huge life changing decisions after having a stirring or compelling dream. Usually those changes dealt with being with someone who made me puke blood because of the rage they would make me choke on day in and day out. But I am confident those character building experiences are far behind me now. As I said though, it was great to jump out of bed and immediately feel encouraged to grab my bass and start working on shit.

I wanna use this sample.
As I have mentioned on the RUINED FACEBOOK PAGE I am currently working on a lot of new material for a full length. Right now I have about 5 songs complete in very shitty shitty demo quality versions which is about 35 minutes worth of material. The song I was working on this morning I decided to throw a sample into for fun. And this is a subject I have thought a lot about over the years. For some reason, I love when bands use samples in their music. I can't really explain why, other than to me it gives a unique texture and predication to their music that I personally enjoy. But of course I think a lot of bands over do this. On THE SPLIT I DID WITH PALM HANDS I used a lot of samples. That split was more about having fun with an old friend than it was about making a great piece of music. So I didn't over think what samples I wanted to use or whether I wanted to use them at all. But in a lot of ways, samples can be really shitty and stupid. A lot of bands are too lazy to come up with something creative that they just say "Fuck it, have a sample of Johnny McShit-Hat saying some hard-ass shit. That'll get that fucking pit opened." I don't really have a point to any of this, it's just something I think about when I am between masochistic fantasies.

"Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be. 
Desensitized to everything. What became of subtlety?"

No fun not ever. 
Otherwise I have been watching The Simpsons, listening to Tool and getting back in touch with my roots. I know everyone talks about how much better everything "used" to be back in "their day." But the 90's were so much cooler than the last decade and a half. 9/11 really fucked everything up. Everyone got more scared and everything became sterile, watered down and fucking boring. The music was better, the movies and television were better and everyone seemed to be living louder than nowadays. Everyone talks about how morality is going out the door but I am absolutely convinced that these bleach white convivial automatons who strangle anything poignant or vivacious have a monopoly on our entertainment in this country. I am not even suggesting that they are the ones producing this bile or even flipping the switches to illuminate our receivers. But thanks to the never ending breeding of shallow minded and fearful fiends that we call our youth and the pompous piety of our owners, this bland anemic mucilage we call modern entertainment is what we are left with. Turn on any radio or network television to see the current state of the necrosis in the American stimuli. George Carlin once said, "Think about how stupid the average person is, and then realize that half of them are stupider than that." And people wonder why I have no hope left. But it's not all bad, I still get to lock myself away from the mutations growing and congealing in the perspicuous pockets of our wealthy and elite communities.I must bar the doors at every turn for they keep coming for me and my kin through wires and speakers. Be weird, make people uncomfortable as often as you can while simultaneously interacting as little as possible with as few people as possible. Then again I hate everyone and everything and should not be giving any advice to anyone for any reason. So take everything I say with a grain of salt. What the fuck does that mean? Who knows. Stay gloomy.