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last---past---next---now
�2006 Candor Communications


2007-01-17 - 4:36 a.m.

the dt chronicles...


once upon a time, for a fleeting moment, or, perhaps or a few days, there was a myspace blogger, who we will call dt... and dt wrote some of the following entries that inspired comments from me that I bring to you here in order to help you not feel left out of the playtime Ive been spending away from here... my ever so fleeting friend disappeared into the nothingness of the unknown by deleting his (or her) blog suddenly after find out I was not a girl (of course that could have nothing to do with the deletion, I mean, just cuz it was the last comment I posted... and there he or she was, challenging me to keep up...

so once again, I am momentarily inspired to rev up my engine and I soar off, thinking someone who asked me to follow would be flying along with me, but only to look around and find they dissolved into thin air... so goes life on the internet, illusion, but can be fun...

and dt wrote:

After the graveyard shift

I won't make a habit of this, but every once in a while I still find it a good idea to post my emotions in a public forum. God knows why, I guess I just like the sound of my own voice more and more the more sleep I am lacking. Anyway, what I'm thinking about now is the ever-strengthening urge I have to write creatively, and how more and more I'm beginning to believe that there's nobody at all who's worth writing it for. I'm like that, you see. I have trouble creating without inspiration, and people have always been my source of that. It's kind of funny, really, when I think of myself as an aspiring artist who will never have a portfolio, because I never did anything in my life until seconds before crunch time. So everything I've done as an amateur is worthless, and I won't have any professional work until someone pays me to do something. It's a disgusting little conundrum, I think, but I'll be slapped up six ways to Sunday before I stop trying to make myself happen. The most interesting part of this whole thing, to me, is the fact that if you are reading this right now, it means you probably have even less of a life than I, so you just wasted your time reading this when you could have been working, making all the money I'm not getting right now, while you still can. I was going to end on that, but -- oh well you're not lissning eneeway.

Word of the Day from the unlikeliest of people, Cesar Millan:
Active-Submissive



and I replied:

this makes sense to me... I'm not sure that's such a good thing though, but I relate :)


what?... you were expecting maybe a profound beginning?... an amazing first retort?... cleverness?... well, give it a moment... for those of you who do not think this sort of public response blogging is merely filler during the quiet times, I remind you that you are welcome to try to inspire me to come to respond to you and stick around, even... meaningfulness is found in a moment, so does it make it any more or less meaningless for the moment to be one or many moments?... perhaps it depends on perspective or level of insecurity or self esteem or sense of identity or something we dont know...

whatever, lets try another, shall we?... dt wrote:

Does "conspiracy" mean "a hoping together" or "a pirating together"?

C'mon with it.

Could i really just sit here and type all night long? where would that get me? Don't ask stupid questions. I can pour into this cup for years and years and never see the bottom, so what's the deal with all these fireworks? More fucking questions. I need pop. There is no one thing they want but don't have. They can't want it until I show it to them. I guess what it all comes down to is who told the best story... I really have no way to relate my story. The ones who would understand it don't want to hear it, and there are probably about 50 of them, anyway. So my money is going to have to come from somewhere else. If I can't sell a story, what else? What is art without a story? Electronica, I would say, but there is definitely a relation there, primal and heavy. Is this an audience I can rely on? Journalism looks nice. Without a college degree, am I dead in the water? Is it possible/probable that there is not a single soul who can read this and expand on it? Because if it is. that would put me in the unique position of being the lead role/driving force behind all of society in America. The single mind from which all non-ideas are pouring to be devoured by the ears of the hungry and subsequently vomited from the mouths of the stupid. The only "smart" one while the rest of the great minds (are you even out there?) hide from their creations and bar themselves from any and all productivity. If this is the case, I will never sing again. I will cry for art, and only art. Goddamn I wish these cretins would learn again how to appreciate the things they could never do. Here's an interesting crossroads: If, in fact, the pool will never again have the relief of knowing its inferiority in the creative world, how am I to know just how shitty my art can be? I would not like to submit my best work to these lackies, but they are at least savvy enough to recognize pure trash when they see it. (aren't they? Please say yes) Trombone keeps coming back, and it is the strongest of the musical urges. Theatrically, I would have to be the actor; everything else is too much work. Is my laziness destroying me, or is it my strongest character trait? I am happy, but absolutely broke. I think the deal for me right now is to simply relinquish my pursuit of paper money. Contrariwise, I have never seen the money as the object of my pursuit. As much as that sounds a contradiction, I assure myself that it is not. It is only just lately that I have seriously begun to see money as the end to my endeavors, and my endeavors have become more and more pointed, focused as a result. Should I take this as a good sign, or a bad one? On the one hand, it could indicate that I have begun to narrow my sights to an industry I've found to satisfy all of my needs for mental and physical comfort. On the other hand it could just mean that I'm beginning to grow weary of my noble effort, that I've simply stopped wherever I left off and am turning around in place, looking for the perfect direction to face when I lay down. there are two thoughts conflicting and I can't seem to decide which is the more troubling. 1) The fact that no one in this county of the most knowledgeable people in America seems to have a clue what a person like me should be doing (and I feel as though they know me pretty alright by now). or 2) the fact that I (ME, Dovid Aleks, Super-Genius) have this ridiculous fount of creativity just waiting to be applied to any system in the world and I can't find a single buyer, and worse, I am asking them to tell me what to do because of it. I guess what it boils down to is that I have the power to revolutionize any industry I come into contact with, so I have spent my life looking for the one that's worth it. Now, I have studied so hard I'm left with a rather complete picture of the global financial and social internets and I don't see a single site I'd like to break into. It must be assumed that not even half of corporations are visible to an average citizen, and yet that knowledge (for obvious reasons) does me absolutely no good. The only conclusions that I can draw from these facts at this time are as follows: 1) These so called "underground" and "elite" markets are to be revealed only to those diligent enough to be moved slowly from job to job following a certain mentor's teachings, and that one would only become aware of their existence after one was hired (which makes me some kind of freak who "just so happened" to notice the pattern from the outside, which would be nice for a conspiracy novel, but makes me want to kill myself) 2) The aforementioned markets are so embedded they operate in a form of absolute, flawless nepotism and we, as mere serfs, are doomed to walk the rest of our days on earth staring up at billboards and wondering how much the guy in the underwear got paid to wake up this morning. (Which, incidentally, also makes me want to kill myself.) The answer, I believe, lies in the subject to this blog.

now we're getting somewhere, aye?... well, at least I thought so at the time... could be you had to be there... could be it was all in my head... whatever was happening and whatever it is, I was still intrigued so this is what I had to say about that:

wow, you've got me grinning at the general feeling that there is deeper, more detailed depths worth exploring while simultaneously I am laughing at the knowledge that the finest gourmet cuisine turns into shit after it is eaten and the possibility of that happening to everything I might ever have done or do once it is consumed by any public market reveals the weak, but usable justification for my procrastinating all these years...

that's me in the corner...

and when you name that song, change corner to underwear and sing on (or along, if you think you hear me) maestro, and consider doing what most people with grand vision, insight, and a touch of enlightened genius do, go into politics to try to save the world, but beware for every one who's tread that path so far, down to a molecular level, has washed out all color in spirit and ended up practically identical with cookie-cutter sameness endlessly repeating the redundancy of the only song the market will bear...

oh say can you see?...

perhaps hope will rise for another time and science will merge with faith to present a more interesting idea to inspire further consideration before the last breath, or even another hitherto completely unknown path might reveal itself, but until then I venture a guess that my intrigue with your writing is more from the similarity of thought I see to a younger me than the possibility of actual connection (therein reinforcing the Freudian proposal that ego rules even the strongest altruism and the self-interest of id is the primal force no matter how much the super-ego screams, but then, I always felt Freud was a repressed child lover too wrapped up in the surface to see the depths he might have uncovered as he converted collective thinking from Victorian to Pseudo-Bohemian {and of course most everyone read Hedonism into the sub-plots} so a truckload of salt for even the mention of his name in a passing side-tracking parenthetic tangent), so your youth might be your greatest asset as it makes you thirsty, as a wise minstrel once said, but knowledge is just a partial substitute for experience (and those without experience are relatively blind, deaf, and dumb to that fact so perhaps I should try pinball to get through to them, which leads me to the potentially provocative, but at least odd question, do I really want to? which poses the conundrum what am I doing here? which brings me (and anyone with any hope of following along) back around to the laughing grin with which I started...

and so it goes...


I was beginning to think maybe I had found me another muse...






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