I'm big in Japan
You know I like music, you know I like to share it, and you know I love Creative Commons. So it’s no surprise that I would like Jamendo. Part music distribution site, part social networking, Jamendo provides free BitTorrent services to musicians and fans alike, for music that is released unto the commons. I uploaded “Interstate 80”, and in return they provide a BitTorrent tracker of the album in high quality .mp3 and .ogg variants. Sharing made even simpler.
Even though the album has only been up on Jamendo for a day or so, it’s already received one review, in Italian. Atmosferarosa says, as tranlated,
“I said in a previous book review, this is the spring of the punk, we have a truly alternative copy of this musical kind here, played thoughts to the Ramones in beach with the friends, an acoustic guitar, makes it, of the fresh beers, and a lot wants to be amused, with a pizzico of melancholy in bottom to the heart why it is the end of the summer, why the tipa it has let go to you, why you have been fires to you, “the invasion of the cavallette!!” and who more of it has more puts some. Well, you are enters to you in this dream? This is your sonorous column.”
This is my sonorous column.
EDIT: Here’s a link to the .torrent download, in case you’re curious.
This wouldn’t be a real blog unless I took absence and from regularly posting, and then returned to apologize about not posting regularly. Well, perhaps if I actually posted regularly as my modus operandi, then I could reclaim the hearts of my inter-networked readers with an eloquent apology, if I actually had readers.
I watched You’ve Got Mail tonight, the story of two people falling in to love, facilitated by the internet. It’s strange to recall a time not so long ago when asking if someone was “online” meant if they had tried the strange new internet or not. Nowadays it seems as though people of my generation will definitely use the internet regularly if they have access to it. Unlike sports, or partying, or playing music, there doesn’t seem to be a division between those who are and those who are not “into it”. Certainly there are degrees of internet usage, from those who devote themselves to their increasingly decorated and populated M-Space pages, to those who read a few news sites every few days, and even to those who try to get the most out of the net by self-publishing, researching, and communicating. Perhaps it is the flexibility and endlessly diverse content that makes to medium so impossible to dismiss.
I watched You’ve Got Mail tonight, the story of a small family-owned bookstore closing as it looses business to a much larger competitor. It’s strange to consider the growing collection of processed trees and ink that I call my own library. It was in the past two years that I began to consider this assortment of books as vital to my persona as my guitar, my bicycle, or my computer.
“Today I Learned” and “Another Journal Comic” will return tomorrow.
So the new album has a name, “High-Five Lo-Fi”. Still in progress, it will eventually consist of 20 songs, all of them shorter than 2 minutes long, all of them love songs. I set up the album’s page on archive.org tonight, and updates will follow. The one song on that site that I haven’t posted here is “Plastic song”, and it’s a bit silly.
DuPont’s got a brand new plastic
a little brittle and a little elastic
it won’t call you at 1 in the morning
leave you wishing you could cry
those plastic guys
what will they think of next
holds its form under hot conditions
more resistant to u.v. radiation
and they say
it will never forget a birthday
those plastic guys
what would we do without them
it knows when you need your space
or if you want to talk about you day
or maybe you just need a little
those plastic guys
sure know how to make them
And such it goes
Wish I could show you all the daily comics, soon enough, soon enough. Tomorrow (tonight?) I’ll be getting on a northbound train, and I’ll wake up in Chico on Saturday. Then at last I will be able to scan in these thrilling images of journaly doom. Today’s (yesterday’s?) page still seems pretty awesome to me, and I hope you (will?) agree.
I woke up to a phone call an hour ago, and I’m not sure I can get back to sleep. Hey internet, want to be friends until normal people wake up? Oh right, there are no normal people in San Jose.
Today I learned that using an RSS reader steals the joy out of the internet. Instead of waiting for 50+ news sites, blogs, and web-comics to load, and then getting to flip through each page checking for updates, I can go right to the 5 or 6 that have updated since the last time I checked. I find myself with so much free time now, damn (the future of) the future.
Just as good
Today I learned that Chris Ware’s indomitable style maintains its stranglehold on my heart, even when animated. Here’s a clip he made for This American Life.
Blog slightly redesign’d. What start’d as an attempt to simplify and enhance became a struggle to repair and rebuild. Taking a break when things were falling apart, I try’d to make sense of why I was investing such effort into an ultimately trivial endeavor. Simply, this blog is a frame on which I can present my wares, be they visual, musical, or literary. But shouldn’t these be able to stand alone, without presentation or cataloging?
The underlying structure can be this blog, the old Heartsmacky website, the moniker Meat Machine, comics, or daily entries into a diary. Without a functional framework on which to record, or share, I worry the things I produce may not resound. If I sing a love song in my room, and I never record it for you, did I make a sound?
The framework, or medium, can also enhance the art. For example, The Mountain Goats’ lyrics are more enjoyable to me because within them I can recognize themes, narratives, and patterns that span songs throughout their catalog. I’m glad they decided to express such ideas through song, and to share this product.
Generating songs, or comics, or anything, the goal is to capture experiences internal and external. When I am closer to the end of my life, will these records provide evidence of a life worth living? I know myself to fear the failings of memory, and I know myself to seek a life well-live’d.
Symbolic ideas or emotions, reveal’d to be complex and subtle neural impulses, craft’d into motor-control, transduce’d into communicable mediums, translate’d back into signals chemical and neural, interpret’d as symbolic ideas and emotions; that’s the mess.
Upon study, worse.
Today I learned that almost one in three female veterans seeking care through the Department of Veterans Affairs said they had experienced rape or attempted rape during their service. The current war, in which the distinction between the front line and the previously less-dangerous support role has been disintegrated, is producing a new group of female soldiers suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Terribly, the largest cause of these symptoms may be rape and sexual harassment from fellow soldiers.
The pedestrian blues
Today I learned that San Francisco is much larger than I thought, that Golden Gate Park is nowhere near the bridge of the same name, and that many muscles in my legs have long since abandoned their original function.
For all the text-mongers out there, I’m going to introduce a new daily feature on this here webloggery. Called Today I Learned, it’ll be just that, so…
Today I learned that the universe may actually be a massive string-net liquid, and the mess hits the fan. Perhaps all electrons are not discrete and elementary particles, but exist only at the ends of quantum entanglement strings?
From the rails.
Train south from Chico to San Jose - #11” The Coast Starlight”
Train was supposed to come arrive at 3:40, but it didn’t. Stayed up until 5:45 am making conversation in the lobby of the Chico Amtrak “station”, and supposedly a good case for vegetarianism too. Got onboard at 5:50 and quickly fell asleep.
Woke up to sun exploding through orchards in full bloom. This really is the most beautiful state I’ve ever seen. Even without having been to any of the big-name attractions, or even a taste of the wilds, I think I might be in love. May my explorations only lead that love to expand and enrich. The passenger in the window seat next to me closed the curtain not long after, spoiling my view, but he can’t hide the love below.
Fresh haircut and I want to live a better way.
Readings on the applications of Buddhist philosophy have left me with mixed feelings. While I’m disappointed to learn that traditional Buddhism asks wives to be soft-spoken and submissive. The more mystical aspects and flowery language describing the divide between this world and that of the enlightened, is just that, mysticism and flowery language. Same play, different actors, religion is whack.
The pragmatic advice on how to live well in terms of understanding Duhkha and Tanha seems to me, but I have no faith in the concept of Nirvana. If all is suffering, then all is suffering always, and not “just until you get the super-bonus-enlightenment-powerup”. That was crude, my bad, I just fail to see the need for an ultimate end to justify the means. The Noble 8-Fold Path sounds awful good to me, sounds like what I would like to be. I’m getting to that age (older) where screwing around and fucking up actually screws things up and I end up getting fucked around. Finding myself with a desire for internal discipline, and searching for a way to live well, the facets of of Buddhism that I can swallow may prove beneficial, down the hatch.
Very rarely have I cut my hair without at the same time initiating an emotional re-calibration. With less hair I am a different thing, hopefully a better thing.
I decided Diana was going to cut my hair months ago, and when she cut it two days ago she asked why I chose her but I avoided the answer. I chose her because I hope some day to be close enough friends with her to ask her to cut my hair. Jump the gun much? I find myself in constant admiration of her, and I’m sure it will be a quite a while longer before I’m used to everyday finding new reasons to respect her, or character traits that she embodies so well and I wish I could represent. Maybe it’s because of her age (older still), or the geographic disparity between our upbringings, that makes her so awesomely new to me. Whatever the cause, it feels as though I’ve never met anyone like her before. She is a Good Person. Every time I attempt to define her, the way we all do with our socially calculating brains, I fail and it only makes me like her more. I’ve met what must be an uncommonly high number of these Good People in my 19 years of research, and none of them have failed to amaze me yet. Keep on doing it to it, you Good People.
ALSO, daily A.J.C. continues, but won’t be uploaded until I return to my scanner, hold tight.
Like They Used To
You called on a Sunday
the third week in winter
spoke of the boy you love and how you
both live so far away
I think it’s great
That they don’t make
hearts this big anymore
might as well get rid of it
so distracting in its way
And they won’t make
and aeroplane that can hold this love
when they know it
will crash and burn anyway
You said the the city’s so cold and gray
you might come to visit me in the sun
someday you joke
but that’s not funny
And they don’t make
boys like this anymore
scared and running blind
and only moving away
And they ought make for you
someone who’ll love you what you’re due
I’m in debt up to my eyes and I’m sorry
but I can’t pay
Another Journal Comic 3-15-07
With stunning accuracy.
Another Journal Comic 3-14-07
Here’s to consistency, and high platelet counts!
Just so you know
Here’s what’s going on with the silly and oft discontinuous artistic “projects” going on in my life (but mostly in my head).
Another Journal Comic + Daily Sketch = More Likely
I figure if I combine these two vagrant and lonesome tasks, I can kill two birds with one stone. The murder-count must rise! Drawing A.J.C. by hand makes it a much less time consuming task, and making the Daily Sketch autobiographical (in theory) provides for no shortage of inspiration. Also, the combined weight of these two “daily” explorations might actually be enough to get me to do it to it every day (in theory).
This bastard child of a Wacom Tablet and my Philosophy class needs to go on the shelf for a while. I’m still coming up with too many questions of my own philosophy to have a firm grasp on it, let alone illustrate a compendium of philosophies. Some day though.
Never rests. I’m currently mulling over a few concepts for albums.
Firstly, a 3-way music/comic split with Tanner & Goldy.
Also, a 2-way split with Ryan, in which we both write songs about 6 months, and then combine our efforts into one contiguous “Musicalendar”.
The one album concept that has actually passed into the tangible portion of it’s life-cycle is going to be the second Meat Machine album, containing 20 loves songs, each of them less than or equal to 2 minutes in length. Let’s Us Go Swimming//www2.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif> and Foreign Language Appreciation are both children of this thought.
There you have it, some semblance of organization.
Now, a moment of silence for The Show. Currently in it’s last week on-air of it’s year-long run, I can’t help but feel like I missed something awesome by coming so late to the party. I surely ought give some credit to the Mr. Ze Frank, he’s influenced me in ways I may never disclose. For those unfamiliar with Ze’s exploits, I implore you to watch the archives, make a day of it even, you won’t regret it.
Most tag’d post, ever.
Happy Pi Aproximation Day!
Yes, I cheated to make the date stamp say I posted this at 1:49, eat me.
I draw, remember?
(It occurs to me not everyone reads my blog on a screen with a resolution of 1280x1024+, and that these kinds of images can get cropped by my blog’s frame without so much as a horizontal scroll bar showing up. According to the statistics, at least one person reads my blog with a resolution of but 800x600, so here’s to you kid. -jono xoxo)
Two Hit Tuesday Monday
Older lyrics + newer chords = fuel on the fire. Next album is tentatively titled “Broke Down, Pass Around” …or “Buttspree”.
Let’s Us Go Swimming - MP3
Filling a jar your heart’s seen better days
& I know it could
fill a sea between here and other states
where people don’t look the other way
when people they know fall down
fall down fall down
So let’s go swimming
while it’s still warm
let’s go swimming
let’s go swimming some more
Foreign Language Appreciation - MP3
You really know how to make me shake
from my fingers to my toes
maybe I don’t know how to stand
& down I go
& I’m satisfied telling you
how I feel like some thing’s gonna break
You really know how to make me hungry
from my stomach to my teeth
like I haven’t fed in days
& all I smell is meat
& I’m satisfied telling you
how you’re the only thing I can taste
& there’s still time before
the cities turn red
& there’s still time before
we go to bed
it’s a pain-
deep in my chest
keeps me from moving
deeper than the rest
keeps me from speaking
and you wouldn’t know
and you wouldn’t know
sharpen the knife
I’ll need it for later
if you left your wife
to chase the dumb waiter
and you didn’t know
what I had cooking
and you didn’t know
-that you weren’t looking
forgive my mistake
i don’t think we’ve met
though I may look used
i feel like a new wreck
I’m starting to feel somewhat-proficient in my basic drawing class. Hopefully this sentiment will lead to the resurrection of Another Journal Comic.
My philosophy course is getting pretty interesting. It too is giving me faith in the physical manifestation of hypothetical comics; I’ve been working on Foil’d Revolutionaire in the thematic/outline/rambling way and that’s a good thing. I’m planning an essay on the application of hedonism as an argument for animal rights. I’m investigating the Philosophy Honor Club.
I have officially adopted mushrooms into the folded breast of my appetite. Mushrooms on pizza, in soups, and atop leafy salads and sammiches. I figure if I ought to include at least two kingdoms of creatures in my diet at all times.
Today while happily chowing down on some vegan mushroom and lentil soup, I observed three students being processed by the campus police. From what I could gather, they had foolishly been smoking the marijuana down in the creek that runs through campus in plain sight. A faculty member noticed them, and quickly informed the police who appeared promptly and in force. The delicious irony of the entire situation was that the informant faculty member was smoking a cigarette the entire time. The state and federal government spend so much time, money, and energy protecting one plant (Nicotiana tobacum
), while prosecuting another (Cannabis sativa
). I believe we are living in Fawlty Towers.
Tonight Siobhan and I are going out to dinner, with our two possible house-mates for next year, Briana and Ryan. We shall dine on vegetarian Thai cuisine, and all will be merriment. If all goes as planned, I may be able to get a cat next year. I’m not sure if I can handle/afford one, but I know I could love it and name it funny things like “Schrader”, “Cat-Tronix” or “Fuzzybutt D-Lux”.
…endeavor to eventually discontinue:
The lovely Andy A. (as seen in “Days of Jono Past” -ed) has spoken to me of a club upon her college campus, named aptly “Kloud Club”. She has also revealed that the mission of aforementioned club is to photograph clouds that look like specifically non-cloud objects, and to then illustrate these objects upon the photographs of the clouds themselves. Layers upon layers upon suspended particles of water. I thought it was a lovely idea and immediately awarded her 100 Props Points. I’d like for such an organization to exist here in the northern wilds of Californyah, and I take it upon myself to spread this good new word.
For your education I present my first Kloud Dagguereotype, entitled “Waterfowl Ascending”.