it occurs to me that i can interview myself again.
Other: why are you doing this again?
Me: because i can + i feel like it + i think i need to.
Other: that's what you said last time. i'd say that's pretty congruous of you.
Me: no, i'd say it's pretty consistent.
Other: totally.
Me: totally.
Other: did i deserve that? or was that for show? or o.c.d.?
Me: practice makes perfect.
Other: then i gather that you've been concentrating on communication lately.
Me: i've been focusing on it, on bettering some skill-sets, yes.
Other: where do you start? (or) where did you start?
Me: i've gone and drawn a circle and can't remember where pen first met paper, so... there are a few different phases of it on repeat cycle, but for the time being i've been unstuck on trying to find worthwhile things to communicate, mostly because i'm not sure that there really is much meta-necessity in my communicating anything at all, outside of music, which, for me, is simply mesa-necessary [meta vs. mesa (?)].
Other: medicinally so, still?
Me: right, but from a different vector than before. now i'd rather be able to communicate just about anything at this point, long as it gets pronounced with some accuracy, some precision. the [achievable(?)] goal being complete accuracy, exact precision. i'd consider them 'language equations', but i only control one side of the equation [if that]; the other side is truly unpredictable because it's never in the present, and/or it's always pushing back. so it's about as 'math' as a bag of shit, or say, hell on ice. call it desperation. i'm trying, though, anyway.
Other: so what are we communicating, exactly?
Me: wrong question.
Other: so what are we trying to communicate, exactly? (?)
Me: more wrong.
Other: so what are you communicating, exactly? (?)
Me: most wrong.
Other: ...
Me: that's right. that's it. warmer, anyway.
Other: obtuse on purpose? what(?). i don't get it.
Me: no, i just don't want to talk about it anymore. i'm horrible at it. fuck if i know the answer to which question to answer (correctly/exactly).
Other: me neither. so without getting into the precision of preciseness, what does this current phase mean for you musically?
Me: lyrically, it's like trying to build the perfect meal, with perfect harmony between everything from nutrition to taste, whim to diet, allergen tolerance to medical history... it's impossible. musically, you don't leave any room for extraneous deviation- no fat, nearly all bone by design. intrinsically, i'm just really fucking sick of people having their own personal interpretations of our music. i can't let it go.
Other: seriously? you're kidding. how on earth do you plan on stopping them?
Me: you're assuming too much. you think i already have something in mind?
Other: definitely.
Me: maybe.
Other: so how?
Me: bigger better bread crumb trails, but i don't expect to stop anything.
Other: you've got to explain this.
Me: i should backtrack- when we release another record, i want people to unwillingly focus on connecting with other people. not interested in peripheral control. i don't want people to guess what i'm thinking- they're always wrong [and though i blame myself, I HATE ALL OF YOU FOR IT]. and i don't want them thinking about what they 'should be' thinking. i want them to look at each other the way two people do when they're on an overwhelmingly similar trip, where trip=something crazy. like two people locking eyes before the roller coaster drops. the same experience. or right before a kiss that hasn't lost its touch, or a first kiss or whatever faggy thing...*
Other: from fear to fags.
Me: nice.
Other: [sorry, real quick, do you really hate your audience? for having they're own opinions?]
Me: [yeah. yes. no, i hate them for not automatically sharing my opinions concerning my music. i hatethem-hatethem.] *...point being, it can be danger-red or tween-pink, i almost don't care- whatever it is, i want the same thing to happen and i want it to happen to them, not at them or for them. every single time. i don't want them to be able to do anything but.
Other: is that achievable?
Me: well it means that at any given moment the music has to be transparent and monochromatic. and familiar in some way. i don't want to dumb it down... i suppose i'm trying to find universal switches, and i guess, flip them at the same time. whilst maintaining some 'higher-level' of artistic integrity.
Other: is any of that achievable?
Me: no, probably not.
Other: sounds horribly backwards. is this/that really what you want?
Me: i don't know. i'm going to try it. it's all not as control freak as it sounds. i've been experimenting with it on smaller scales. piece at a time.
Other: the results being?(...)
Me: it makes for wildly adverse effects and for some interesting shit that i didn't really know i was that into, where shit=genre and adverse balances out in some weird way(s). oh, and i've failed completely, every time, without fail. impossible experiments yield impossible results.
Other: then what is the point? especially if you're trying to communicate something exactly(?)
Me: well i've learned to chill the fuck out, soooooomewhat. as far as goals within The Golden Goal goes, anyway. learn what i can, i suppose. try to learn something of value, at least. try not to go too far with failure. try to not cheaply replicate successes. - the main target is still, something close to, i dunno, 'blowing minds', if i may. to push the envelope as hard as i fucking can. the later of which being so much harder than it sounds.
Other: how brave. is the dragon hungee fuh nobiwity?
Me: go fuck yourself. i do it despite whatever other options would've been better(healthier, mentally) for me and in spite of whatever comes [too] easily.
Other: bullshit. you want to be famous and revered. ridiculously famous. end of story. that's what keeps you up at night, isn't it(?). staring in the bathroom mirror, imagining the shit out of it, still, after all these years of 'growth'(!). i bet, in the end, that's what this whole thing is about. all of it. even this.
Me: what is? :(
Other: you want to live and last forever. you need your life to matter to everyone else the same as it does for you. your time's little bitch and this is your hissy fit.
Me: you don't know me.
Other: .em wonk t'nod uoy
Me: damn, that's a strong play. ok, so- fair enough. you know far more of me than the other others. but you still don't know shit. you have to admit that. i'll concede if you do. that's a fair deal, take it.
Other: don't be weak. this is what you wanted. honesty + misdirection.
Me: eh. i hungee fuh sayftee.
Other: weird. i feel weird.
Me: not me, i feel fine.
Other: i'm hungry for safety too, though. you're that fast?
Me: totally.
Other: totally.
Me: nice.
Other: very nice.
Me: anything else?
Other: i want to know how honest you think you're being. with this. with your work, the future.
Me: pretty honest. i stand behind the character(s), for sure. they definitely mean every last drop. i think it's spot on, as far as satires go. if the first album was a tragic melodrama (which it was is), the next will be a comedic satire. i'm replacing the fireworks with soul. i went to school, apparently, and came back with soul, i'm told.
Other: i can see that.
Me: its going pretty well, actually. i'm just going to power through it and see where i am, where am=went, maybe. still happy as hell, selfishly pioneering for myself. you know... fuck you if you're not me or you. and all that. last question?
Other: i want to know how long this took you.
Me: classic choice... weird/interesting that you'd want me to tell you though. a few hours. it's dense, definitely. multi-front editing. back-door purposes. mapping and stuff. i've been thinking about it for a few days.
Other: nice.
Me: totally.
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-on behalf