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By: Aithen - 11/19/2017

Herein my Musings

The thoughts of a fellow soul on this journey:   Here I will attempt to encapsulate in writing what I am thinking and feeling for you all to pry through at your leisure. These blog entries are unedited prose, so forgive any spelling or syntactic errors. I will do my best to be transparent as possible without being convoluting. Also I reserve the right to cuss (so my apologies if you're a sensitive bitch...).  But I'll try and block out the vowels in the curse words sometimes because somehow that makes it ok. 

THE JOKERR'S BLOG

I DON'T WRITE LYRICS  

I don't write lyrics. I just sit in front of the mic and record ideas and build on it. I found over the years that writing is just a redundant step. It's a vestige of an earlier time when you used to have to have your bars ready and then go record in a studio... But now everyone records themselves in their own studios. You can just use your voice as the pen and the DAW as the paper. Then you know exactly how the words feel on the instrumental, and you never have to worry about a disconnect between what you write and how you perform. I feel like it's more organic that way. Try it if you haven't. I found that it really opens up the creative workflow. I seriously haven't physically "written" a single lyric in the past 8+ years. Last song I can remember writing down the lyrics to was "Justus Where Are You" in like 2008-2009. Everything you've heard from me since then till now is done using this method I'm describing. It also makes memorizing the lyrics easier too. Build the song all out like that first just letting the ideas flow, then go back through and record final takes on everything once you have it like you want it to perfect the final product. You'll start cranking out material like never before. There, you've been given a song writing cheat for the day. Use it wisely.

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  1. Justus Where Are You

YOU'RE IN THE WRONG ROOM 

There once were two friends who wanted to do something great and unique with their lives. They wanted to do music! They wanted to be famous rappers and be known all over the globe! Their names were Eddie and Dave. They hung out, and talked, and dreamed, and made dick jokes.  They would literalize everything each other said with elaborate word games and double entendres.  They would even change the lyrics and sing adolescent filth into the melodies of their favorite songs, and laugh about it for hours!  They were the BEST of friends!

Actually, they were more like decently good friends.

Actually, they only were friends because they both did music and were from the same shitty small town in a rural area of a averagely large metropolitan area of like a top-20-sized US city.  They bumped into each other when one saw on the other's Facebook, or Linked in, or whatever-the-fuck-other social media platform that he was from the same obscure ass town, and figured since they both had music pages they should be friends!


And then they eventually met up and became "friends" by default, I guess... 


ANYWAY, so for years they chilled. They went through the motions of being buds, made plans, bought some equipment together, took a couple road trips, and kept chugging along through the hustle of day-jobs and life, all the while maintaining a steady march toward their mutual goal of being famous rappers! Yes, they were amazingly close and inseparable. Nothing could stand in their way! 

Except..

After years of carrying on as they were, Dave began noticing that all the effort they were putting in was getting them nowhere, so eventually Dave decided he needed a change, and went to get help!  He saddled up his trusty steed and set off on an epic journey to seek a magical mythical Oracle Goddess on top of the holy mount Kahzicoof... Not really. He just went to the fucking library and got a book... Actually, no he didn't do that shit either, he really just picked his phone out of his pocket and did a quick google search and found an informative article that spoke to his situation. The article told him simply that EVERY INDUSTRY IS BUILT BY PEOPLE, FOR PEOPLE, AND PEOPLE ARE INHERENTLY SOCIAL CREATURES... SO IF YOU WANT TO GET INTO A PARTICULAR INDUSTRY, GO MAKE GOOD RELATIONSHIPS WITH PEOPLE WHO ARE ALREADY
IN THAT DAMN INDUSTRY, SO THEY WILL BE INCLINED TO TEACH YOU AND HELP YOU SUCCEED IN THAT INDUSTRY BECAUSE THEY'VE BEEN THERE LONGER AND KNOW MORE SHIT AND PEOPLE IN THAT INDUSTRY THAN YOU, YOU FREAKING IDIOT...

Dave took that advice! Over the next few months he researched, and pondered, and planned, and eventually moved to Los Angeles, because THAT particular city is the CENTER of the music, movie and entertainment business (Dave's career's respective industry), so it was only logical that he go there!  He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he also knew if he just put himself in the right position, with enough time, and hard work, he would come across other people who could understand his disposition and dreams and goals, and relate to him, because they at one time were just LIKE him. He knew that if he just toughed through the difficulties of starting life anew in a brand new place, eventually his talent would shine through, and he would garner the right opportunities that would put him in a place to be able to REALLY excel in his career, and make some substantial leaps forward in his pursuits. After 3 years in LA he got a major record deal and released his debut album to critical acclaim! He bought his mom a house with his music money, began a bustling career in entertainment, went on to do great things, and lived happily ever after... 

Dave made out just fine with his career dreams... But NOT Eddie.

Eddie was a huge bitch. He stayed back in his small town comfortably surrounding himself with people who looked up to him for his talents.  Though he went through a lot of the same MOTIONS as Dave, he secretly just wanted to be a head-honcho, and was using his "music" endeavors as a front for his constant pursuit to stroke his ego and fill the void in his soul left by his father or some shit; because deep down he just felt insecure as a man, and had many self-control issues. His whole relationship with Dave was actually a big ass "long-con" play to try and ride Dave's coat tails to greatness, hoping he could get the accolades without actually putting in the work or taking the risks... Eddie was threatened and intimidated by any situation where he wasn't the smartest person in the room, but would never say anything about it. He would just sit there quiet and weak-bitchly, harboring his inner rage like a school girl.  

BUT IT GETS WORSE... 

After a couple years away from Dave, as his life stagnated and his musical aspirations began to fizzle down, Eddie grew deeply bitter.  He started retroactively blaming Dave for his lack of success, even though Dave thought they were on good terms.  He proceeded to then sneak diss Dave on a couple of songs, and then wrote various passive-aggressive comments weakly referencing Dave on his Facebook, or Linkedin, or whatever-the-fuck-other social media platform on stuff Dave would post. When Dave called him out on it, Eddie then blocked Dave, ignored his phone calls, and then proceeded to ghost Dave like the huge bitch that I told you he was.  Yes indeed, Eddie was a titanic, ginormous, festering bitch, and he never made it in the music industry. He just settled down with some random ass average chick, and faded into the dull of middle-American society, constantly reliving the embittered fantasy of how Dave somehow ruined his chance at greatness by taking an initiative to move to a city more advantageous to his career choice. 

So what is the moral of this story? The moral is this: IF YOU'RE THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM, YOU'RE IN THE WRONG ROOM.  All of society is built by people, for people. People like doing favors for people they like, and one favor from the right person can bypass YEARS of red tape trying to go it alone. Those are the facts. This doesn't even just apply to the entertainment industry. This could apply to you if you were just working as a waitress and you want to be a manager. MAKE FRIENDS WITH MANAGERS, hang out with them, learn their ways, stay in their faces, pick their brains. I mean think about it; when you have a hook up, who do you hook up first?  Random people in obscure towns across the country, or people who are close to you who you like? DUH, people hook up their FRIENDS. You need to put yourself in that HOOK UP ZONE with the right people in your industry.  It can't happen long distance, because as we all know... Long distance relationships NEVER work out. Too many people are just thinking they can stay where they are, isolated and alone, and then all the sudden 'BLOW UP' out of nowhere. That is literally NEVER how it works. Anyone you see succeeding in ANY industry has someone behind them who was there first, and who is older, wiser, and more powerful then them GIVING THEM the opportunity for that success. What they do with it then determines how far they will go, but they DID NOT GET THERE ALONE. If you're stagnating in a situation in life, whether you're aspiring to be a technical engineer, or own a janitorial company, or just get a promotion at your job, you may need to take a look at the people you're around, the city you are in, and the company you keep - even in your downtime. IT MATTERS. Remember, IF YOU'RE THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM, YOU'RE IN THE WRONG ROOM, bitches. BOO YA.

-J  

Wrong room niggiz be like...

WHO TF DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? 

I'm just gonna come out and say it. I got BAD abandonment and validation issues. Seriously, a random nigga in my life doesn't text me back in a timely manner and I'm about to drive to his house and cry on his door step begging for his love (no homo, or maybe just a TAD bit of homo... I guess it depends what he looks like. You know there's some dudes out there that just... wait never mind this is getting way too gay). This stuff is EMOTIONALLY AGONIZING... One side of me can reflect rationally and intellectualize the problem: Daddy was a douche and during the most critical years of my development instead of giving me love and affirmation he stole my lunch money for crack and put me in a hospital with my lips bashed in. So now there's this giant emotional void there in my soul, yadda, yadda, yadda. I get it.  And I even know how to begin healing those wounds... But fuck if it isn't still painful as shit. I feel like I'm walking through life alive and animated, but my soul is low-key on a stretcher attached to an IV full of the donkey from Winnie the Pooh's piss. 

So here I am, 32, and relatively established by "the worlds standards" whatever the hell that means, but deep down I live with the fact that the one person who was supposed to love me and build me up as a man told me I was nothing with his fists and his repeated absence. Not worth fighting for, only worth being jealous of and taking from. The depth of the scars that stuff leaves is hard to express in words.  I'm left trying to figure out how to be a man by myself, and NOW, every relationship I ever have is amplified in it's intensity, because anyone in my life could be a secret surrogate for daddy with the subtext of the relationship being me walking on eggshells and praying they don't leave me for some reason. And to make matters worse, I have a big ass heart, so I love hard, and fast, and am very transparent. I'm what you call "Ripe for the Emotional Anus Pounding" (no homo again, I know this is becoming an on-going theme in this entry but look, it was an appropriate metaphor for the situation, so don't read to much into it!... I do like men though). This world is especially cruel for people like me. 

All I want to know is WHO AM I? Fathers are supposed to give us our identity. Mine never gave me one. So who the hell AM I? Anyone? I'll wait....  

...no?

Tell me about it.  So let me ask you. Who do YOU think YOU are? What do you think about yourself? Did you have a messed up father or mother or influential person in your upbringing telling you some really fucked up things bout yourself through their words or actions that you probably now still believe a little somewhere deep down?  Well guess what, FUCK THAT SHIT!  I used to try and rationalize it away, make up excuses for my dad's actions, and figured that "someday I'd be old enough to understand." Well bitch, I'm 32 now, so when he was my age I was already 14, and he was 3 years way from punching my face in because I wouldn't let him drive my truck. This nigga wasn't "troubled" or "institutionalized," he was just a fucking dirtball of a person making the same mistakes over and over again, entertaining his pride and ego, and clamoring for control wherever he could. Oh, and not to mention casually leaving a wake of physical and emotional destruction behind him whenever he ran out of our lives and majestically swan-dived through the roof of a crack house again. 

I know this sounds dramatic, but I'm telling you all this to give you some perspective. Seriously if a scumbag scam artist crackhead on the street called you names, or told you you were nothing, or not worth it, or said you wouldn't amount to anything, would you REALLY take them seriously? Or how about if a punk little kid who runs around the neighborhood ding-dong-ditching people and pooping on porches flips you off, are you gonna really go home and cry about it? Will that chubby little booger-encrusted middle finger sink in DEEP and traumatize you for decades? OF COURSE NOT... So consider the source when you're thinking about those fuckers in your past who gave you your identity. Look at THEIR lives. Why are they special just because they happened to be biologically responsible for you?  Now that you're older you are just a person just like them, and you can assess them objectively.  They were sad, stupid, dirtballs of people... And I don't even need to know them to know that, because anyone who told you you were ANYTHING but an amazing child of God with a beautiful heart and a purpose in this life IS a sad, stupid, dirtball of a person by definition.  

So let all that shit go. You are an amazing child of God, with a beautiful heart, and you have a PURPOSE in this life.
I SAID SO. THAT'S your new identity.  Fuck the rest.  Believe THAT from now on. 

-J 

Figuring it Out 

From the desk of The J to the O... 

Life is a big steamy
BITCH sometimes. We all figure when we are younger that at some point things will click, or that our destiny will become apparent. Colored by our past, our upbringing, and our experiences, our visions of the future are usually just light shining through a mosaic of broken, and definitely stained glass on a wall of our youthful ideals.  My personal past is one of turmoil and mixed prophesy. It's a juxtaposition of principles, and of beliefs, and of aspirations, and of awkward self assessments. The pain and confusion I have endured manifests symbolically as the painted tears found on my face. 

That all being said...
F#ck it. Sometime you need to stop trying to figure it out, plop your balls on the table, and go to work doing whatever the hell it is you do. Sometimes you just need to build, or work, or grow something. Clean the garage, plant a damn garden, I don't know.  Stop expecting me to have all the answers. I'm in this bitch we call life with you.  I've resolved that, in any case, I'm gonna keep pushing on and figuring more stuff out as I go, because one thing I am NOT is a coward.  Life isn't going to push me around without me pushing back.

If life tries to come at me, I'll grab it and judo throw its bitch ass.  If some horrible sh*
t happens to me, I'll probably crysterbate over it pathetically in the aftermath, but eventually I'll come to my senses and write a song about it. Turn that sh*t into some hot bars or banging beats and put it on my album.  If some punk ass back-stabbs me, I'll pry through the psychology behind it all and turn it into a beautiful moving message that will help others.  

That's one thing
I have figured out... There is ALWAYS a step forward, always a momentum to shift, always a hidden key in the situation. I think it's just our job to find it, and keep learning one step at a time. I'm going to shower and go to bed, my ass itches because I just got out of a hot tub with way too much chlorine in it.  Hey I just got out of a hot tub, life can't be that bad can it? 

-J

PS: There was no particular reason I made "my ass itches" large and bold, but now I just made you read that sentence twice... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA