To be clear headed rather than confused; lucid rather than obscure; rational rather than otherwise; and to be neither more, nor less, sure of things than is justifiable by argument or evidence. That is worth trying for. Don't we remember all the moments we remember the best, framed in poems and in pictures, sang aloud in refrains? Does this cycle of pain and disdain for the past not work exactly the same? Maybe it's just as much about what comes our way as it is how we react. Just as much about the things that we've still got as it is about the things we lack. I know we won't always keep around those we feel we need. Some will fade in the frames, some were born to leave. But if we're still here and we still breathe, at least we've still got time.Stay with me, lets just breathe.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Contrast and compare between the busy ones and the ones that don't care, until there is no one that you really know. So I drift through these days of appointments and promises made, they will all end up broken and quickly replaced. Weeks are slow, days drag on, even practice and parties seem long. When the routine bites hard and ambitions are low and the resentment rides high but emotions won't grow, and we're changing our ways, taking different roads. Then love, love will tears us apart again.
"The word 'Morphine' comes from the word 'Morpheus,' who is the god of dreams, and that kind appealed to us as a concept...I've heard there's a drug called 'morphine' but that's not where we're coming from...we were dreaming, Morpheus comes into our dreams...and we woke up and started this band...we're all wrapped up in these dream messages, and we were compelled to start this band."
''Someday there'll be a cure for pain and that's the day I throw my drugs away...''
Sunday, July 31, 2011
So what if you did something wrong? Find someone who hasn't. I've got so many places that I wanna see. And I've got so many faces that I wanna be. I believe I can see the future cause I repeat the same routine. I think I used to have a purpose but then again that might have been a dream. I think I used to have a voice, now I never make a sound. I just do what I've been told, I really don't want them to come around.
All the money in the fucking world couldn't buy me one second of trust or one ounce of faith in anything you're about. Fuck you all, nothing is worth the sleep that I've lost. Apologies unacceptable now. I guess the only thing cheap is your friends. You can always make new friends. But it's not always worth as much. I've got a big fat fuckin' bone to pick with you, my darling. In case you haven't heard, I'm sick and tired of trying. I wish you would take my radio to bathe with you, plugged in and ready to fall.
Azot je elektroakusticni kvartet iz Zagreba koji izvodi eksperimentalnu, improviziranu glazbu upotrebljavajuci razlicita porijekla instrumenata, slobodno ih kombinirajuci. Raspon izrazavanja je velik i nije iskljucujuci; od kontroliranog minimalnog zvuka (onkyo), do prostorno kontinuiranog dronea uz elemente buke.
Osim niza koncerata u sklopu festivala Zedno uho i programa Explicit music gdje su podijelili pozornicu s umjetnicima poput Tetsuo Furudatea, No Neck Blues Banda, Jgrzinicha ili Kontakt der Junglinge, te nastupa u Zadru i Osijeku, clanovi Azota su i osnivaci jedinog zagrebackog festivala drone, minimalisticke i elektronske glazbe - Sine Linea. Od posljednjih nastupa izdvajaju se koncert u Grazu s obradom Rozart-mixa Johna Cagea, sudjelovanje u performanceima u organizaciji Muzeja suvremene umjetnosti Zagreb - inspiranim radovima Vjenceslava Richtera i Ivana Picelja, clanova grupe Exat 51 (Richter, Unutar strukture) te nastup na izlozbi 26 miliona minuta kasnije – Nove tendencije u Mariboru.
Ciklus zvucnog istrazivanja tekstova Bogdana Bogdanovica zapocet je dramsko-glazbenim performanceom Knjiga snova ukletog neimara uz suradnju glumaca Vilima Matule i Zorana Josica.
When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.
When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.
When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.
When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?
When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.
When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.
It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.
When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.
When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.
When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.
When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.
"Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream and we are the imagination of ourselves. Here's Tom with the weather."
I'm coming home from my hardest year, I'm making plans not to make plans while I'm here. And this life has been no holiday, a complicated situation. I'm fine with all my memories. Still, I could use a vacation.
