Tag Archives: music

hinged

unskilled hands

work brush

work strings

work pen

to bad results

.

uncreative mind

plain person

simply no good

art plus work but

it never works

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Call me an ionian g-clef ’cause yo, I’m in major treble (oh wow sorry i’ll show myself out now)

slightly unrelated, but hey here’s a dumb music band art thing i did a while back—mostly just throwing this in so that this entire cursed post wouldn’t be a total eyesore 👀

Alright, it’s three in the morning and I’m mostly delirious, you all know what that means…it’s time for another stupid rant thing that literally no one cares about!!! I have absolutely no idea as to what demographic this entire post will make sense to, but I have been staring at nothing but notes and more notes and surprise! even more fuckin notes!!! for actual hours now and I just needed a break to set my head back on straight. So here’s a bit of a weird lengthy personal music-related talk about, well, music and all that jazz. No pun intended. For this instance, anyway. Okay, no more bad music puns, I promise.

So far, my current progress has been going immensely slow but okay overall, I suppose. Apart from your usual classic starter pack of making-basic-covers-of-simple-four-chord-songs-from-UG, I’ve also been trying to experiment with creating chord progressions and composing tiny snippets of punk and djent-esque riffs which might sound nice overlayed with some power chords (my scale/mode game isn’t quite sweep-picking dmitry demyanenko-level god-mode yet but I can make do for now) and just a little bit of a filthier guitar tone and a hell-lot of distortion. But yeah, it’s kinda difficult to envision how this shit will actually sound when I’m playing on an acoustic instrument (stg once i get one of those gorgeous seven-string music man monarchy majesty bois and an axe-fx it’s over for all you fuckers jk). Improvising solos are fun as well but I think I’m abusing the dissonance slash bending power just a little bit too much??? Idk it just sounds cool to me. Probably sounds worse live though hahaha jk

On the other hand, I’ve been a bit stuck on studying intervals and tritones for goddamn hours at an end now and it’s so confusing snsjsj it’s highkey driving me insane. Notations and rhythms and metres and key signatures and scales were fun and games and bloody candyland, but god call me Patrick ’cause I am stumped here. There’s just so much to take in, augmented and diminished and perfect and double accidentals and both and none and inversions and everything is just a complete ancient hieroglyphic mess to my eyes right now (and no, not the cool phrygian dominant kind either, if you catch my drift). It’s still a highly mindblowing concept though, and the more I read about it, the easier it gets for me so,, win-win!!! I should also probably do a lot more ear-training and sight-reading because I still can’t identify notes proficiently enough to even save my life. Just trying to distinguish between each major and minor scale alone is making my head hurt so much, I’m probably gonna have severe haunting auditory hallucinations for weeks after this. I’ve honestly never been more jealous towards human beings with perfect pitch as I have this very moment ahahah ;-;

And sort of digressing here, but tabbing and polyrhythms and fingerpicking and tapping and harmonics, oh my! Gotta learn that stuff as well. Need to make me some of those smooth groovy crunchy funky math rock riffs, my guy. I obviously won’t be pulling off an Ichika Nito or anything even remotely close to that kind of heavenly genius anytime soon but hey, might as well have some fun and run with it. One thing at a time though. I should really set a legitimate practice routine that doesn’t involve 95% of said session with me liberally pouring sugary caffeine down my throat as I idly waste my precious time mucking about online in the dead of the night (but knowing me, i’ll probably just go “fuck it”, as i do, and wing everything to hell until something in my system inevitably breaks). Lastly, I’m trying to find a good song that should be relatively easy enough for me to learn and transcribe by ear, but I’ve been admittedly procrastinating on that task because ngl, it’s pretty intimidating as all fuck. Seriously, I’m virtually having nightmares even just thinking about it. But I know I’m gonna have to face it at some point or another, so might as well be sooner than never. I reckon I’ll just use a song that I won’t mind listening to over and over again and excruciatingly poring over until I start to hate it forever. : /

Anyway. At this point, I’m practically eating hefty mouthfuls of music theory for breakfast lunch dinner and the occasional midnight snack, and yet my mind is sometimes just a bit too thick to fully comprehend these things as quickly as I’m feeding them to it. And this is barely even scratching the surface, I have so much more to uncover and unpack and it’s scary enough to almost make me wanna poke out my eardrums with an ice pick out of sheer despair. But nah, let’s not do that yet, ’cause I might be getting there though. Soon enough, hopefully. At the very end of it, I think it’s just so crazy how much learning these things drastically changes the way I listen to music. It really helps me pay attention with my ears some more and it opens up a whole new avenue, nay, universe of subtler nuances and finer details and technical know-how that I never would’ve noticed in songs otherwise, had I not known all this information beforehand. I mean, some people may see it as overthinking and overanalysing everything which may ruin the whole listening experience for them quite considerably, but personally I don’t mind it. On the contrary, I see it as a fun little brain exercise which could be an essential tool for improvement, and it doesn’t necessarily have to take away the sentimental and emotional value and the overall enjoyment I attach to the music in itself. And of course, I ultimately get to actually create my own music which for me is just???? excitingly insane??!!?!? Like how do I even??!? I’m sorry I’m going off on a tangent here and dorking out too much about music when this is not really the place for it and I should be getting back to the grind, but I’ve just never been more passionate for anything else in my dull existence than this. It’s been tough so far, but I just need to focus a little more. Okay, a lot more. Tbh I spent way too long writing this post when I should’ve been learning about seventh chords and triad inversions, damn it!!

Alright that’s it for now (or y’know, probably ever),, I’ve had too much coffee and I want more and it’s already four and I still gotta spend more hours torturing my brain cells so brb watching more hilarious metal meme videos oops uhhh I mean five-hour online courses on YouTube bye

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…and skyward, to come home.

save my

sensibility

the wrongness

of being right,

ludicrous—

mothballs taper

off to fixtures

on the wall;

your portraits

five. nine. nine.

not knowing

the date and place

but persisting to

hitch a hearse

for the winners

and you sleep

and you slept…

cheek to the gutters

like rainwater and

dry ice melting

but the puddles are

still far too cold

to be touched

with bare hands

.

your malevolence

my destiny

a love, chased

down with laudanum

and bitter spirits

starving for fire

not mine, no—

but angels won’t

exist just to see us

fall away and die,

and if i do so

let it be beside you

and these memories

of springtime

and soft sadness

discoloured fingernails

pointing to the sun

sending wishes

holding on tightly

never there?

never where—

not the awful thought

of losing you out

to another bore

.

when i’ve got

good stories to tell

and a bad heart

to prove innocent

hear me out, please

your music speaks

in earthquakes

and perfect fifths

though abstract

the ends may seem

myopic gaze

did you lose sight?

so save my sorry

humanity and

your flesh betwixt

mine again

for countdowns

don’t matter if

time doesn’t

make amends, when

you’ll be just fine

i know—but then

what am i?

what am i now?

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Ornate Messes

Don’t react when I tell you
That bright lights mean
Nothing to you
Because no one would know
The sound of a ghost
And I might be something to you
Beyond beautiful…

~*~

aching fingers

and lavender sunsets

a collection of

scrambled letters

disguised as your name

.

dusty lines scribbled

on the back of a

twice-used post-it note

in this long stretch of

afternoon torpor—

.

creaky guitar strings

played out of tune

exhausted calluses

a step in the right key

still proudly smiling,

.

two hours of strange

dreams, and excitement

before awakening;

a walk into stunning

darkness, mere glimpses

.

of moonlit epistles,

coffee after midnight

existential wishes

shooting stars dragging

out hope and lost love,

.

rekindled aspirations

blooming into memory

a song finally taken

to heart, after years of

waiting for the right time.

~*~

My darling, never rest
Until the darker gets
The best of all we had
Can the cold carry on?

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stitches and cosmonauts

9:09 PM.

this picnic blanket

is meant for

two

stars tailored

together

into constellations

spelling out

l o v e

and music made to be

sang out loud

to the countless

infinites

and ringing laughter

and embraces

still left for

the both of us…

but you’re just another

phantom dream

coalescing

without a second

thought, and

i’m just a

lonely figure

covered in shadows

and comet trails

and this fickle

cold weather

as i write

cliché poetry in

the dim nothingness,

still hoping and

waiting

for warmth,

for a lost chance,

for a picnic blanket

meant for

you.

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sanguine

When everyone you thought you knew
Deserts your fight, I’ll go with you
You’re facing down a dark hall
I’ll grab my light and go with you…

~*~

you kicked up reckless dusk,

and for a moment, time was yours.

i sat on the kerb and wept,

lost in the haze of fog and music,

watching the years go by with

nothing more than flammable illusions

cutting open the stars because you didn’t bleed,

waking up with dead skies because i couldn’t love—

letting the alarms go off hour after hour

but never letting the nightmare end, melting

away into paranoia and humiliation,

red lips a soundless “darling, i’m fucking cold.”

ignorant eyes couldn’t see the last of us

until it’s held at speculated gunpoint…

do you have to cross the start of the horizon

before they could see that you’ve died?

do i have to cross two lines off my hand

before i could ever try to live?

~*~

And go with you, I’ll go with you
I’ll go with you, I’ll go with you, yeah
Stay with me, no, you don’t need to run
Stay with me, my blood, you don’t need to run…

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nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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You’re All Phases And Dark Sides Like The Moon, But You’re Not As Bright (I Would Turn This Into An Extended Play But My Band Hates Me, I Have Mediocre Musical Talent, And No Record Label To Beg)



Phase One: I Don’t Know About You But I’m Ready To Move To San Diego(‘s Disneyland© Theme Park and Resort)

[EXTRACT: WE DO IT IN THE DARK WITH SMILES ON OUR FACES
WE’RE DROPPED AND WELL-CONCEALED IN SECRET PLACES
W E  D O N ‘ T  F I G H T  F A I R]

To all the divorcees in the dancefloor

Singing songs for poor dumped hearts

Won’t you come and take a million pictures

Of my latest 100 billboard-hit chart?

I’m not famous, but I’m on your magazine

Load up the ammunition baby, take it in

The articles say that I’ll save your life

But all I’ll do is steal your brain-bored wife

So I don’t give a shit about your ideal weekends

But buy my merch, I’ll be your best friend

And don’t pretend you’ll just forget about me

When I’m bitching about how everything’s a travesty…



Phase Two: She’s Got A 10 PM Audition Starring At The Back of A Costco Store

[EXTRACT: I’LL KEEP YOU WARM AND WON’T ASK WHERE YOU’VE BEEN
WITH YOUR BACKLESS BACK DRESS SOAKED TO THE SKIN
W H E N  A L L ‘ S  S A I D  A N D  D O N E  T H E Y ‘ R E  S C R A M B L I N G]

West coast smokers choking to death

And a trashy nosebleed is good for the health

Kiss it hard in the back alley like a desperate man

Blow out your sixteen candles with a gun

(and paint the town an ugly shade of party-red)

.

You’re all grown up and ready to waste a week

Looking for a dive bar to drown shots cheap

But the boys never liked you, Mr. Barman

Now won’t you sleep this out again with no one?

(the insults are only as bad as good guys get)

.

I swear I won’t swear, my mouth is clean

I go to church on Sundays and I’m never mean

I swear I won’t swear, I know that it’s all true

Your secrets are all worthless but at least I’ve got you—

(completely wrapped around my finger)



Phase Three: Warm Sympathy Is Just Cold Sarcasm For Wimps

[EXTRACT: I KNOW YOU’VE HEARD ALL THIS BEFORE
LET’S HEAR IT FOR AMERICA’S SWEETHEARTS
I  M U S T  C O N F E S S ,  I ‘ M  I N  L O V E  W I T H  M Y  O W N  S I N S]

I don’t love you at all but I love your therapy

You talk like you’re going deaf, so won’t you lie to me?

.

If it’s not about comforting then I wouldn’t even care

You look even messier today, did you do something with your hair?

.

I said I’d write a million poems about you but I got carpal tunnel

Just like how you said you’d give me a taste of first-class hell

.

We both smiled like a girl’s best friends, only it’s all fake

And we didn’t believe we could mine such coal-black mistakes

.

I don’t love you at all but you scare the devil out of me

But I wouldn’t call you an angel, don’t you just love my honesty?



Phase Four: Children’s Nursery Rhymes Are Really Letting Themselves Go These Days

[EXTRACT: MY SONGS KNOW
WHAT YOU DID IN THE D A R K
S O  L I G H T  ‘ E M  U P]

I ‘ l l  S T U M P  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S T U M P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  w i t h  i d i o t ’ s  s y n c r a s i e s

I ’ l l  s T u M p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S t U m P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  i f  y o u ’ l l  a s k  m e  t o  b e

I ’ l l  s t u m p  y o u ,  u o y  p m u t s  l l ‘ I

M y  n a m e ’ s  n o t  P a t r i c k  b u t  b a b e ,  I ’ m  a  s t a r

B u t  i f  y o u  t h i n k  t h a t  t h i s  j o k e ’ s  g o i n g  t o o  f a r

T h e n  I ’ l l  d u m p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  D U M P  y o u .



Phase Five: If My Brain Could Actually Think For Itself, What Would It Say?

[EXTRACT: IF I COULD GET MY SHIT TOGETHER
I WANNA RUN AWAY AND NEVER SEE ANY OF YOU AGAIN
N E V E R  S E E  A N Y  O F  Y O U  A G A I N]

I’m

                    too

fucking

                             tired

           for

                                               all

       this

                                                                 bullshit.

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Misdial

Daydreams that you never want to leave
Only your own thoughts to keep you company
Like a room of strangers staring quietly
Playing make-believe to keep you in between
Selfish and alone, where did you go?
Never find you in a memory…

~*~

It’s selfish to keep it in between my eyes

But I think I’m losing the disconnection

As I constantly find myself in debt with doubt

Wondering if I caused the false commotion

.

‘Cause the conversations don’t play out the same

And I don’t know if it’s all simply me to blame

Music’s a little duller when you’re not there to listen

At night, I wake up to the wrong daydreams again

.

I shouldn’t hold out hope to a fragile glass phone

But the rocks in my hand don’t wanna be alone

So I’ll take back my words, the way I always do

And regret that I couldn’t be your dial tone clue

.

I just hate the way that time fades the brightest of stars

And when the sun comes up, the horizon’s a little less blue

I hate that I couldn’t be there to be a distracting lullaby

Maybe you didn’t lose me, but I sure as hell lost you.

~*~

I feel your apathy, to me it all feels the same
I want to know how to think the way you think
About anyone but me, but you’re never sure
Never present, I want to fill my head with you…

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Musical Musings

As you cry in silver rings and pose
In a second you’ll be high and in the clouds alone
I never thought I’d see the day
But I see stars around your face
Just like we’re in the movies and you’re scared…

~*~

Music comfortably pouring in my ears

Of dulcet lullabies and scratchy guitar riffs

.

Keeping me warm, tones ever so familiar

Like an oversized threadbare pastel sweater

.

Like stirred english breakfast tea with no sugar

Like a burst of drizzling rain in the middle of summer

.

Like pleasant catnaps, huddled under soft covers

Like ocean waves cresting on coastal barriers

.

Like million-dollar paintings over the moon’s craters

Like a necklace of stars, quaintly twinkling as it scatters

.

Like fever dreams, syrupy and floral, quinine waters

Like a springtime frolic spent floating down winding rivers

.

Like nightmares and cold terrors and peter pan nevers

Like forgotten phantoms left faded for a lost lover

.

Like all the nostalgic memories still keeping me together

Like one existence that’s forever changed for the better

.

Tranquil music that feels comforting, familiar, and safe

And when everything’s simply too much, it’s my only escape.

~*~

Step back, I can’t believe
Do the math, the sky will fall anyways
Trust me, this is a blessing and a curse
This much I can’t deny…

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