the dreaming tree

i hate fake performances, maybe even moreso when the “artist” has a gleam of talent. i don’t understand the need these people feel to try and create some special aura about themselves. man, just play your songs. i went to a show friday night where this occured. the opener vs. the headliner. guess what? in my opinion, the opener kicked the headliner’s ass. and here’s why: the opener played what his heart was feeling; he didn’t throw some image at us, he let the music speak. and then along comes the high and mighty headlining act, and from the minute he stepped on stage i sensed the act. i’m not saying he doesn’t like, maybe even love, what he’s doing, but what i felt from watching him was that he was showing off to an audience. he wasn’t trying to reach us; wasn’t trying to connect on that higher plane of music where idle words outside the song cannot express near enough emotion. several times during the opener i felt chills running through my body, not because of an amazing performance (though it was very good), but because the words leaped into my soul and refused to be denied their chance to speak. i didn’t even come close to feeling that during the headliner. in fact, i was so put-off by the performance that i left after four songs. is this harsh? maybe. but i guarantee if i had felt an ounce of sincere, beautiful music, i would have stayed. but then, maybe i’m not in it for the same reasons as some. some do it because they can, and some do it because they have to. because there is something deep within them that demands to be released. that is the essence of music.

well, since i can’t get into rmfo right now, i’ll just post on here again tonight…thank you to all you lovely people that actually read this site.

i hate fake performances, maybe even moreso when the “artist” has a gleam of talent. i don’t understand the need these people feel to try and create some special aura about themselves. man, just play your songs. i went to a show friday night where this occured. the opener vs. the headliner. guess what? in my opinion, the opener kicked the headliner’s ass. and here’s why: the opener played what his heart was feeling; he didn’t throw some image at us, he let the music speak. and then along comes the high and mighty headlining act, and from the minute he stepped on stage i sensed the act. i’m not saying he doesn’t like, maybe even love, what he’s doing, but what i felt from watching him was that he was showing off to an audience. he wasn’t trying to reach us; wasn’t trying to connect on that higher plane of music where idle words outside the song cannot express near enough emotion. several times during the opener i felt chills running through my body, not because of an amazing performance (though it was very good), but because the words leaped into my soul and refused to be denied their chance to speak. i didn’t even come close to feeling that during the headliner. in fact, i was so put-off by the performance that i left after four songs. is this harsh? maybe. but i guarantee if i had felt an ounce of sincere, beautiful music, i would have stayed. but then, maybe i’m not in it for the same reasons as some. some do it because they can, and some do it because they have to. because there is something deep within them that demands to be released. that is the essence of music.

hey ya’ll, my blog is moving to a new location:

the new place

the three of you will want to update your links. thanks.

i hate studying. but i like to learn. it’s kinda weird, i know. but i like to learn in a roundtable-type environment…as in discussion. talking about stuff with other people who actually know what they’re talking about. and i don’t really include lectures in this. and i thought i was gonna be able to carry this thought a little further, but i can’t come up with anything. so, i’ll be back.

i do this weird thing with the windows when i’m chatting. i resize them all to be the exact same size and then organize them on the screen. so, if you’re the lucky first one to IM me for the day, then everyone else’s little windows get changed to your specifications (which will undoubtably be changed the next time to someone else’s specs.). and then i arrange them on the screen by several different guidelines: 1) how long i’ve been talking to given person; 2) the importance of the conversation, in terms of a) deepness or b) hilarity; and 3) aesthetics. i know, i’m a weird fellow. and i figured you’d all want further confirmation.

“dave, you have no idea who i am, but i’m walking next to grady right now, and we’re talking about you, and i definitely think you should keep your hair long. it’s very sexy, very cool. i just wanted you to know that…”

–some girl on my answering machine

i guess i have no choice but to keep the hair long. ahh…the life of a rockstar…

i’m bored. i think i’m going to rearrange my room.

so…eventually i will have this looking right…or…geof will…

sometimes i cry while i’m watching a live dvd of a really good band. why? well, i’m insanely jealous of their job. they routinely rock people’s faces off for a living. i mean, what more could you want? plus, they’re just so good that my emotions get blown away. what bands do i speak of? well, a short list would be pearl jam, coldplay, u2, jeff buckley (not a band…but…he counts…)…the list could grow to infinity. i don’t even want to get into my feelings at an amazing live show. i was damn near giddy seeing thursday and juliana theory, murder by death was, in a word, a-freakin’-mazing. i don’t know where i’m trying to go with this. i just want to be in a band that people love to listen to. not so that i’m famous, but so that i can see people’s faces of joy every night. that’s my dream.

man, i love playing music for people. what fun we had tonight with covenant at ol’ thrio’s. thanks for coming if you did. see you next time if you didn’t.

be yourself. that’s what i’ve been told for so long. but here’s the problem: i don’t know myself. i don’t know what i want to do with my life. i can’t decide what kind of personality i have, because i have two or three that i use at different times. i walk around trying to convince myself that i don’t care what other people think about me, but the truth is, more than half of the things i do are trying to impress someone, or get noticed somehow. but yet i don’t seem to know how to relate to people, because a lot of people don’t have very high opinions of me. and why should they? i’m a megalomaniac. (thanks incubus.) i walk around thinking that i am content with what i am, who i am, when in fact i am nobody. i have done nothing worthwhile to this world. i don’t need an angel to come show me how this world would be without me because i realize that i have affected many, many people in my life. but i don’t feel needed. i know things would be different without me here; i know that i would perhaps be missed, but this does not change the fact that i feel, and remain, useless. i wish that i was known for something other than “that tall, shy, quiet dude (does he play basketball?).” but then here’s the rub: i cannot for the life of me motivate myself to do something about it. i sit here in my room and dream of doing great things and then fall asleep to do it some more. and then i wake up and realize that nothing got accomplished. again. i’m just a lump. this concerns me, because i don’t want to wither away into nothingness. i want to accomplish. i want to make someone proud of me. i don’t want to be the most popular guy on campus. i want to find my niche and dwell there content. why can’t i find the escape hatch and crawl out of this muck and mire that i wade into time after time? i’ve destroyed old friendships and hindered new ones because i am so anxious that i either do nothing, or too little too late. i indulge my flesh and ignore my spirit. it’s not fair, but who said it would be? why can’t i handle it? i’m nearly physically incapable of changing. i have to literally force myself to do homework and such. even things i enjoy, like playing guitar, do not seem of much interest to me. i’m waiting for a spark to ignite me instead of striking my own match. it’s getting old and i don’t know how much longer i can live like this.

so, katey brought up an interesting question: what makes me think that i have been successful as a writer of music? what satisfies me? and i’ve been pondering that. the answer is…i don’t know. i really do care what people think about my music, but i can also be very satisfied without everyone clammering over it. so…i’m not really sure. and that’s about as far as i can take this thought right now.

i think february is one of the dumbest months of all time. first of all, there is no need for valentine’s day. it is just an over-hyped, male nightmare that benefits any corporation that sells flowers, candy or cards. why should there be one single, solitary day where you’re obliged to go on a date. unless you’re a single exile, and then you’re screwed. you just get to feel even worse than you usually do, especially if you just got rejected. cause…ouch. ok, enough about valentine’s day. second on my list is black history month. what.a.crock. i mean…why do we need to dedicate an entire month to great black people? it’s just an over-dose of what we already get all year. “black’s are oppressed.” get over yourselves. how about you quit whining and get off your ass and do something? what a freakin novel idea. do something. i see plenty of black people “making it” in the world…those that simply apply themselves like anyone else that is doing well. in fact, i submit to you that it is harder these days to be male, middle-class and white than a black man. because, if they whine enough, they’ll pretty much always get what they want. if we whine at all, we get called racist bigots (is that redundant?) and told to go away. i don’t know. i have absolutely nothing against black people in general, only those that sit around and want handouts for being oppressed for so many years. get a clue: you are oppressing yourselves! everyone is sick and tired of hearing about how you were wronged, when in fact it wasn’t you who were wronged in the first place. just do something besides whine, please. and don’t force the rest of us to listen to your ignorant pleading. thanks. i’m not a racist. i just hate laziness and whining. which is what i’m doing now. so i’m sorry. i’m gonna go do homework.

i love to write music. the most amazing feeling in the world is hearing your music performed and liking it. but sometimes i think i write too much for myself and don’t allow others to see where i’m coming from. what i mean is, the works are so introspective that is difficult for the average, or even avid (if i had one), listener to pick out discernable themes or motives and how i’m trying to make it all fit together. there’s a innate desire within me to please the audience, but at the same time i don’t want to write with that being my goal. i want to communicate with the people while still maintaining my artistic integrity. but then, what artist doesn’t? after all, without a willing audience, my art means not-a-whole-lot. i’m finishing up a piece for choir on the kyrie which i think will accomplish this; i’ll let you know how it goes after the performance. and i’m fairly excited about it.

i finally got to play with my band tonight after…1…2…3…4…5! 5 weeks since we had all played together. that’s ridiculous. anyway, we didn’t sound too bad. a little rust is to be expected, i guess. but i don’t think i have felt that much joy since the last show we played together. it was marvelous. and we finished writing a new song that will rock the masses collective face off. no doubt in my mind. come hear us play it on friday the 13th @ thrio’s! i love my band.