3:07 A.M. The New Workweek

Well, why not jump on the Blogwagon, as it were. Perhaps I'll become a minor celeb. Perhaps my music will actually get heard by some strangers who will wind up liking it. Perhaps it will pass the time as I sit in from of the computer during the "dead zone" here at work...

Yes, I, like so many others earn a living in a call center, but luckily my shift is 11 P.M. to 7 A.M., so I get substantial time to pursue my own mental endeavors whilst also making a buck. Not to mention the advantages of not having to dawn the "Business Casual" attire every day, or deal with inter-office politics, or any of the other annoyances that come with a 9 to 5 that actually takes place from 9 to 5.

So who is Aaron G.? Well, he is a 31 year old musician struggling to make ends meet who loves art of all sorts and makes a full-time effort of trying to understand the chaos that is modern society. Pastimes? He plays guitar, he sings, he tries to write songs, previously kinda trip-hop electronica stuff, because he didn't have a decent microphone and was limited to loops and samples, and currently is making a go at writing "pop songs," in so far as they have verses and choruses, but hopefully do a decent job of transcending the absolute nightmarish trash that graces the American airwaves these days. His absolute favorite makers of music call themselves Radiohead (big surprise, coming from a musician). He also makes a rather half hearted attempt to occasionally play MMORPGs...he doesn't really know why, as he never seems to stick with it; perhaps something of the appeal of eeking out a fantasy existence in a fantasy world where things make absolute sense. Right now the time-eater is EQ2. Obviously to waste such amounts of time on a computer game, when he already sits in front of a PC 8 hours a night at work is an undeniable indicator of one fact: he does not have a girlfriend. The woman he intended to marry moved on from this world roundabout 2 years ago and he hasn't dated since. He'd like to, he really would. But for some reason, it just doesn't come so easily anymore. He tries to remember how he got so many dates in college, and comes up empty minded... 

He has a degree in English Literature, and enjoys reading postmodern work but can't stand the fact that its called "postmodern." The last really decent 'Neomodern' book he read was "American Gods," by Neil Gaiman. Actually, Mr. Gaiman has a blog of his own, right here: http://www.neilgaiman.com/journal/journal.asp.

He (Me, not Neil; I have no idea what his opinion of the overused descriptor is, I just ran into his blog minutes ago) prefers the term Neomodern, just because there are currently no treatises written on the word. He dislikes the idea of making a career writing tomes upon tomes of work made up essentially of linguistic masterbation and self-important intellectual substatiation. Let's face it, sometimes a word is just a group of letters meant to describe something.

Moving on...

It is Tuesday, which is my Monday. I'm wondering what I could possibly fill these pages with, as my life has recently entered what could doubtless be considered the most bland period in my 31 years. Following quite a major drug addiction, I've elected to give up the "rock-and-roll" lifestyle in favor of boredom. The lyrics are pouring out, but thus far only one group of stanzas has wound up in a melody. If all goes well it shall be posted here (a demo of it anyway), although I can't imagine anyone actually listening to it. Who knows, though--I am beyond amazed at how many people's lives wind up being compelling enough for so many others to read and digest; what's even more surprising is the fact that there are still people out there who actually click on banner ads. Thousands of them. Clicking and consuming. Clicking and consuming. Won't you please gimme half a penny, faithful reader?

I may never type in this thing again. I may type in this thing every day. God knows I have the time. 3:29 a.m. and still noone has summoned my technical skills via analog voice transmission. I'm definitely earning my 12 bucks this hour.

Next week is my birthday. I'll be 31 years old. I feel no different than I did at 24, except I'm much more sober. Clarity of thought is a drug in and of itself when you are surrounded by such madness. Yes, madness. What other word could be so fitting for the modern age? Yes, that will be theme for these erasable windows. The madness that surrounds, abounds, and confounds.

Until the brain again needs a space dump...

http://www.randomwebsite.com/

3:06 AM - 3/16/2005 - post comment