Emo Shit That Doesn’t Belong On The Facebooks: or, yet another example of giving up important stuff on a whim.

14 years ago, I blogged. every week, if not every day. 

Reviews of stuff I read/saw, mostly, written for people i never mentioned by name. 

I guess I wrote for my old roommate, at first - I would write as if she would hang on every word, poke every flaw, ask every question. She was my imaginary audience, long after we moved out and away, where she became even more a figment of my imagination, difficult to remember what phrasing to use to trigger which desired (but never truly experienced) response. 

I wrote song-prose about people I met, evenings that meant something to me, moments I didn’t want to forget, gestures I wish I had made in person. Dreams that felt like deja-vu, lies turned into wishes through the act of writing. 

and then, for many reasons, for one reason, for no reason, I stopped. cold turkey. The part of my brain that was open and playful and wordy and emo and bullshit and permanently an annoying 20something - she stagnated, darkened, hid. 

I didn’t let the words out and, in my mind, they grew unfit for human consumption. 

I miss that melancholy romantic and I’m hoping I can woo her back. Not the old roommate, that minx - I miss the woman who wrote for Marcy, for Sam, for Frank, for Griffin, for me. the girl who wrote like no one minded doing the research to figure out why something was funny (trust me, you’ll get there. it’s still funny). 

it’s not Facebook. 

it’s not twitter. 

but it is picturepicture. always has been. 



what the fuck happened with Music?

So. I’m finally coming around to the idea that I can allow music into my life again, outside of soundtracks and musicals. 

Looking back on the events in my life in which I went from being immersed in musical performance, where I couldn’t stop singing, to...

...barely being able to handle anything other than hearing the most non-diegetic music, let alone sit and listen to something interesting.

I remember a short series of stupid events that convinced me that I should stop singing. I decided that if I’m not singing, there’s no reason to listen, no reason to pursue new sounds, no reason to keep learning about something that was my all day every day. 

I guess I am just now realizing that the result has been that I have been behaving as if music broke up with me, without any warning....which is such a  ridiculous notion. There is absolutely no fucking reason in the world I couldn’t pick up right back where I left off. 

Of course watching television spurred my brain into this revelation. 

Shameless: “The Two Lisas” - Fiona is on, basically, a blind date, making the sweeping statement that she doesn’t have time for music. He responds to this by saying he couldn’t live without music, and she suggests he play something worth dying over.  

kind of fell down a youtube hole, starting here. 

Of course I’m at the stage in this whole ”picking up where I left off ” where all I can do is listen. All day long, when I can. Listening.

And then I find myself walking home from the train or the bus and I’m singing. 

It’s rough, it’s super weird to listen to, but every few phrases or so, I feel the old throaty tenor pop through, and it’s a fucking amazing feeling. 

It makes me feel so angry that I misinterpreted things so completely, and let it all go to hell over a few months of listening to the wrong advice from the wrong people at the wrong time. 

Maybe I’ll never get my voice back to where it was so many years ago. 

I’ve missed out on so many truly lovely  musical moments that have happened (and others that could have happened, if I had only been there) ... but the only thing I can do is figure out where I’m at now, and start working from here. 

but even if nothing happens like I thought it would, at least just being a fan isn't always the worst thing. 

 

 

My Wish for 2015

more photos. 

more books. more baths. 

more fantastic television. more nights when I come home too late to watch anything. 

one winter day that's warm enough to be outside but cold enough to make snowmen, calvin-and-hobbes style. 

a phone call on a perfect morning in the spring that will inspire me to take a sick day and paint the motherfucking town. 

an (employed) summertime vacation with nothing to do but drink and make freckles. 

an autumn that is made for boots, leather jackets, and people watching. 

and an end-of-year holiday season full of everygoddamned thing I didn't get to in 2014. 

here's to wishes. 

a redesign and a reboot...

so, in the last year or so, I've been working at a job that has been so exhaustingly involved that I haven't been able to think, let alone be interesting in my free time.

and for years before this past one, I'd loved my job so much I was afraid of being dooced (look it up) for blogging about it. and everything in my life, pretty much, was somehow centered around my job.

so, basically, this domain has been lying fallow, and I've been completely out of practice at writing things.

I found a new home for the domain, and a new host for the system, but I can't decide what I want to do with it yet. not even sure if I should repost my favorite stuff from the old site, or just start anew. i know it's too much to hope to be good, or even interesting, at first, but  maybe with practice I'll find my voice again, and that will be something. 

while archiving the old picturepicture(dot)net, I couldn't help but re-read everything - and I'm actually pretty shocked at how little I remember writing from that old site. There was a lot there I actually quite liked, actually. I guess I need to decide if I want to re-post old stuff, or start fresh. 

either way. it looks like this is the new picturepicture(dot)net for now. Happy 2014.

Winter Rooster. no reason. 

Winter Rooster. no reason. 

On The DVR

Because I watch so much tv, some of it actively, some of it is "something to have on while I do other things" and some of it is just plain "this is soothingly edited and narrated so I fall asleep to it" I thought it would be interesting (to me, anyway) to list what is on my DVR and put it into some sort of context for my own amusement.

I discovered there are fully 96 things set to auto-record (i took off 4 things that had been cancelled since I last went through the list). 

Writing out the "story behind everything on this list" is seriously going to be an exercise in shame-explaining, while doing a partial a dvr cleanup...but so far it's mostly "man, I am grateful for television because I am not sure there are enough books on my reading list to keep me from falling into a pit of passive boredom."

On the other hand, I had been feeling like I might spend too much money on cable, but looking at how much tv i watch makes me realize that I actually really use the service to it's fullest without watching news, sports, or Survivor.