:: Thursday, December 09, 2004
URGE TO KILL RISING.. RISING.. RiiiiSING!!
there's nothing like doing mindnumbing book publishing work to really build up an appetite for mass destruction.. endless code crunching, formatting.. text goes here, text goes there, then text makes an awful mess over here, diagrams everywhere, clean up the stupidity, oops there goes another flow chart I need to design.. move to the next chapter, scan this, process that, left hand move mouse, right hand tap on keyboard, turn over page, operate scanner, drink beverage, wonder "wot exactly is the difference between a beverage and a conventional drink?", babble inconherantly to self, stare out window.. every 10 minutes, crick neck left, crick neck right.. *yawn*.. process next chapter..
it's good money.. everytime I do one of these I buy a few more shiny gizmo's, maybe upgrade a thing here n there.. and really.. it's not too bad to work on.. coz hey, you end up with a book that's published and used nationwide (and parts of south east asia) as their appointed text book.. yes, that's right kiddies I'm helping to educate the next wave of chemical engineers to fuck up our planet, kill frog populations and lower the sperm count.. yeeeeHARR!! but, it also has a really nifty side effect.. working on this day in / day out really gives me the urge to fucken destroy something.. and it's that urge for murderous rage that I've been searching for, for quite some time now..
y'see.. all good music needs something to strive against.. whether it be unrequited love, a seething hatred for a 2nd term president, protesting the gay right's of the ostrich, a slight stabbing pain in the pancreas, a fondness for styrofoam peanuts, sustainable cold fusion.. wot'ever.. either way, music doesn't exist in a vacuum.. it needs conflict.. fuckit.. it has needs for that edgy nerves on wires, shredding concrete, chain smoking, glass eating psycho kind've energy.. it needs that adrenaline.. THAT is where all good music comes from.. right back to being a toddler in a supermarket having a spastic attack coz ya parents wont give you that chainsaw or semi automatic rifle to play with.. coz DAMMIT, I WANNIT NOW.. WAAUAUAUUAUA.. ya remember that energy? yeah.. THAT is wot all good music is about..
yup.. you can never really improve upon the high note achieved by the toddler hissy fit.. or the spastic excitement over a sandcastle we can destroy, a toy we could steal.. some pots n pans to smash.. a sibling we could kill with that chainsaw then bury in the backyard (only to be found many years later after you've moved suburbs..) nay, we can only be mere shadows to that raw / insane creative chi.. but hey, living our lives of vicarious weekends, low paid zombie work, shitty non-existent love lives, dodgy tv programming, road rage, phone rage, completely random xylophone phobias.. yeah, as adults.. we can sure as hell try..
and after many weeks.. of just.. piss fucking around.. being a total waste of space..
this desk work.. this none-too-annoying desk work.. yet, clawing with the mundane niggling'ness.. oh YES.. finally it's giving me an urge to kill.. I wanna fuck shit up reaaal bad.. I wanna make people's ears bleed, and their brain's melt.. I wanna leave spontaneously combusted burn marks on the dancefloor.. I cheer like a demented muppet at the carnage that I will UNLEASH.. if ONLY, FINALLY.. I rid meself of this work.. when this work is done..
yes.. fuel me up with just enough temporary conflict to make some truly fucked up music..
I can't wait for the day when I can begin this shit again..
to make you monkeys go spastic and implode.. from that which I have ready n waiting to let loose.. and each day, working on this.. that urge to kill.. is rising..
:: Spoz 5:20 AM |