So, I've been kindof out of it, hey?
Been slow with the poems and things.
Well, I'm sure some of you have noticed that I tend to go in bursts of inspiration and all that.
My brain went down a tube for awhile, and I don't know if I've really crawled out of it yet, but some things are shifting.
What I've been up to lately... well, I don't have a lot to say. Therapy as usual. Playing guitar every day-- I've stopped sucking at it and moved on to being halfway decent. Playing my drums. Need to work on my bass stuff.
Learned to use my brother's record player, finally. Got myself a few the other day, Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall, and the first Led Zeppelin album. All great deals, Dark Side of the Moon barely cost anything and it sounds great, The Wall was also a wicked price and it's probably my favorite Pink Floyd album. The Zeppelin album was a real find, though, because it was unopened, perfect condition. Imported from spain, so most of the writing on the cover is in spanish, but who cares? Major score.
There's something striking about the sound of records compared to anything that comes from CDs or Mp3s, it's just... brilliant. The only thing I can think to compare it to is a live show. The sound is just so full.

And then there's something about Zeppelin and Floyd that resonates in me, 'cause this stuff goes further back in my memory than anything else. This is the music from the background of life from before I could properly open my eyes. I never get sick of it.

Music just... runs in my blood. I need it like I need air. A lot of people understand that. I'm always shocked and bewildered to think that there are as many people who can't grasp it. Can't get hold of that love for sound. It's a second pulse.

Perhaps I'll work on a poem about it. Different from Bionic, though that touches on the same idea. Hmm. It's something to think about, definitely.

I STILL have not gone through my photos from July. I'm terrible, aren't I?
The only new photos I have are of myself, and while some of them are kindof awesome, I'm not enough of a narcissist to want to plaster my face all over the net and call it art. DevIDs are one thing.

Today I was lying on the couch with my feet propped up (the couch isn't long enough for all of me) over the edge, thriving on my music and paging through a good book, wearing my brand-new hi-tops (there is something about sneakers, simple ones, they don't have to be brand-name chucks but these are that makes it so easy to move. precise. fitting. like second skin) and thinking that in that moment, I had a good idea of who I am.
It's a pretty rare feeling. I don't know when the last time I felt like that was. But I just grinned at the ceiling thinking,
"I'm Jeremy Alexander. I like cinnamon gum and cigarettes and leather jackets and sunglasses and sneakers and pencils and headphones and painting with my fingers. My clothes are all too big. I love rock music and tattoos and the ability to shape sounds and colours and words into something worth looking at and listening to. Silence scares the shit out of me and four in the morning is when I feel most alive. I'm an alien, and I'm ok with that. I can't think in words so I ramble on trying to explain myself, I never talk in straight lines and I'm considered to be pretty strange. I'm short. My favorite word is 'Why' and the thing I say most often is 'I don't know'. I prefer boats to cars and planes. I'm really really really fucked up and have a lot of problems. But I'm a tenacious motherfucker."

My thoughts were a whole lot more abstract than that. But hey, whatever.

Well, I suppose one thing to look at on the whole uploading art and poems and photos front is that I tend to do a lot more drawing/charcoal/painting/clay stuff when it gets to be that time of year where I give things to people. A few months away, yeah, but I always make crazy amounts of art then. I suppose it has less to do with using art as gifts and more because I get ridiculously out-of-my-mind stressed and need something to do with myself.

We'll see.

I'll try to work on some stuff to upload.

Cheers, then.

JCA