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in the time of Busker Du.

i am feeling without ground under my feet, defeated by the critical mind i have kept around to eat my negative emoting, but i want to think of it in a more positive light to absorb all that which is dark that matters… the dissatisfaction reminds us of the wealth of exaggerated blips on the radar screen, all distracting us from any of those true goals we desire individually, and melting us further together into one cohesive lump… an undulating sweaty lump of coal burning up in the furnace of progress… though that doesn’t mean that one cannot afford to pursue the dreams in their own head, the life abundant perhaps, but maybe also the luxuriant sedative effect of the capitalist dogma working on the side of “law and order”… the weight presented by the rest of the natural world pursuing a sort of profound chaotic conformity, where the intentions of the living creatures compliments the solid and long-lasting linearity of horizontal extrusion into this material place, and the taste of the visceral instinct waivers all objective exactitude that our minds might inspire… we relate ourselves and our experiences to the other person, but it is up to them to incorporate as they choose with the information we push their way… i have listened to the rock band Husker Du, but not as extensively as i would have liked, my musical self-awareness came with metal rock music however… as i read more about their history, the more i digest into memory, and start to synchronize with their intents as well… makes me want to want a Husker Du phase… though as the rest has unfolded, now i am presently hit with the dilemma, and feel the absolute need for resolution… the call to write and harness the song to express the condensed version of my recounted details, themes may vary, but i can implement the acoustic guitar and my voice in many of the endeavors i wish to follow… i have devised a few covers to polish a bit to a more unique quality, a few original songs in the drafted stages, and my handy acoustic-electric bass to whittle the time down to stubs at the end of bloody stubs…. this is a bit of the exaggerated word, though, nonsense to the layman urge to understand… i have folded my arms to a certain extent, and find it difficult to interact even as my heart deeply wishes some transition beyond this absurdity most abundant, to convey a couple of interesting points before i fade to dust….perhaps to counteract some detrimental plunder of potent creative wanderlust that deserves the merit of valid recognition… still what can Busker Du be for me?… i am truly curious how far that exact pendulum will swing, i am merely on one end of the kinetic strand connecting idea to human as translational tool, but the performance needs to clear my head… to play my songs somewhere Here close by, busking on the street corner or open-mic night for small amounts of plundered coin, and is this the part-time scale that will please?….is this my missing need that i crave and ache to please?… we shall see, we shall see… i am thrilled and at once so timid to reveal these wishes to your peanut gallery eyes, pregnant with supposed visions of witness playing in your mind, but still the boisterous nagging spirit lures me there….to take charge and at the same understand whatever it is that i am doing… where are these small changes taken further?…

Thanks, khet.