So where

...but, the universal IS the particular!

It's the particular that bugs people, isn't it?

"Are you on Spotify (tm)?"

If I had one dollar (better a euro) for every occasion on which I was asked this question, I could simply stop releasing records now. I wouldn't have to work doing anything ever again. Either for something, or for nothing. 

Yes, you can stream my music for free before you buy it.

No, I am not on Spotify. 

I understand it's a very popular platform, but okay. Just nod and smile?? I really don't happen to like it. It's music for lazy people that don't really give a shit about what they're listening to. That's the general impression I get with Spotify, anyway. Maybe it has to do with their business model. Pennies on the dime is a hard sell for someone in my shoes, to be sure.

On the other hand, perhaps I've said too much already. Why don't you just enjoy the music and have a lovely afternoon! It's summer, it's festival season, it's time start gettin' down. Let's take it to the stage, right!?! 

See you in hell.

0 Through 9

Dutch streets have numbers and facades the way plants have seed pods and leaves; they grow out, extend and terminate according to a quasi-mathematical framework that nevertheless admits the full reality of bricks, soil, stone, sun and wind. A Utopia for the anti-Platonist; rationalism weathered by the shift and hustle of the restless sea.

Away from the throngs of passersby, the real Netherlands blooms : a Jasper Johns feast of the imagination where rounded portholes, wild plants, stylized digits, grit and neon extravagence blur together, floating, like ghostly lilypads dangling octopus-like tendrils in the gardens of the mind.

Running up that hill

"Tor" is an interesting word. Apart from its digital designation as an anonymous computer network, it refers to a gateway, goal or door in German, which explains its use as a component of many place names. After having spent more than a week in the Netherlands, I've dicovered that the same word means "beetle" or "scarab" in Dutch. Not the close cognate one might expect, save perhaps in some metaphorical or mythological sense.

Certain languages like Turkish retain the classical derivation of a hill or tower (presumably through the Latin turris), but with various other usages and meanings having long since taken firmer prominence. The Old English and / or Celtic root tor designating a rocky outcrop at the peak of a hill is seemingly only loosely retained elsewhere, being almost certainly unrelated to the infinitives torquere or torrere, verbs that mean "to twist"; only torso carries with it an echo of rugged, windswept highlands desiccated by the ravages of time.

Sunflower being 向日葵存在

"The ground will move out from under you..." 

It certainly seems to have of late, Mr. Smith! In a way that is both unaccountable and likely to continue for the foreseeable future. Clearly the universe is a much stranger place than I could possibly have imagined, and much richer. Surely there are further wonders to be beheld elsewise and sideways on Sundays, down spiral stairs, rainbow-webbed parallelograms and squares squinting in the sun's sultry afternoon glare!

Some trick of the light, perhaps.

Betwixt joy and grief

Up to Bifurcations 3 now. 

I'm particularly proud of the artwork for this one, which I put together entirely on the spot using GIMP. 

On the road

Down and out in Amsterdam, I've become the dharma bum par excellence. Head full of hash, tripping balls on the ferry, no firm agenda, improvising the next move 24/7. Making up the plot from moment to moment, hour by hour. How did I get here, David Byrne? Is this now my beautiful house, with such throngs of people constantly passing through it? Bought a vintage gold blazer for 35 euro trying to fit in while crashing into all the tourists staring wide-eyed at this convict of the weird and visibly removed. This isn't a lifestyle, this is a life sentence! Bouncing like a billiard ball between hostels, getting bitched at for passing out in the communal areas after hours in front of the gear, dragging 40 kilos of metal in cases down angular cobbled streets for just minutes of rehearsal or recording time... it has become rather painfully obvious that I went into all of this without very much serious planning or preparation. Where exactly does all of this lead?

"Easy come, easy go, little high, little low, any way the wind blows..."

On the other hand, I'm also becoming aware (as is my increasingly beleagured, sore, warped but also rapidly recovering body) that I'm having an unforgettable experience that has indelibly altered my vision of the world and my place in it. Something is happening while it often appears that I'm doing almost nothing at all. I've discovered new limits and rearranged my life to an almost unrecognizeable extent while striving to maintain the core essence of my musical vision. I've carted an entire portable studio halfway around the world to find freedom, and sometimes I can't but feel that I have undoubtedly achieved this. But everywhere there are limits. Is it possible to carry on this way? For how much longer? How melodramatic in a way; a political refugee for reasons that likely do not align with my own personal views on any given subject, out on a limb because it's the only place left. Or is it? Is this just another illusion? It's the universal trip this time, realizing that maybe nowhere is ideal or truly safe and it really is just about the same shit everywhere, just playing out differently with a slightly different history leading up to the present moment, forever pregnant with possibility and the promise that the endless return of tomorrow will shuffle the cards anew.