<3 Gash and all of his aliases.
Hey Gash, what are you up to these days?
I half expected to see or hear you on TV in some band or something. Still doing the music thing?
Either way I hope you've been well. ;)
Annual Visit
Nice of you to drop by.
Hey Gash, good to see you're still alive.
Hope to see you drop by more often, but hopefully not due to more existential crises.
Hope to see you drop by more often, but hopefully not due to more existential crises.
And six months pass in dead silence.
In answer to the above questions:
a) Zark: Yes.
b) Dolash: Consider it done.
c) Seth: Yes.
d) Others: Thanks.
Updates, for anybody that feels some misguided lingering attachment to me, or the troublemaking simulacra of me at least:
I've got a degree. My grade-point average was unsurprisingly stellar. Liberal arts education is as full of morons as the rest of the world. I do not have a "real job" (as in, one with any responsibility or hope of advancement), and continue to be the antisocial black sheep of the family. I've written several novels and promptly burned them, but I continue to write for at least four hours a day. I've passed through several bands and am currently in one that I like. We don't make any money and I still suck quite a few dicks at guitar, but as you all know I do have an anxious and negatively-charged charisma that some people mistake for depth, which counts for something. I occasionally do freelance songwriting / lyrical work for other local bands, since we are now quickly approaching the age where our peers realize that they are completely illiterate and that even pop songs require some scant level of eloquence. I suffer from occasional paroxysms of self-doubt over my decision to live in squalor until finding a suitable career in the arts. They don't last too long. I am part of a loose collective of other likeminded wishful drinkers (that's a book, look it up for a laffo, but don't waste your time reading it) with unrealistic artsy faggot dreams.
My latest book is about hyperreality and the hyperreal mediating our interaction with reality. That is, the collective dreamscape (I still use that word as often as I can) which we are all constantly working so hard at bringing into existence. It is also about repetition as the fundamental quality of suburbia, which (maybe) allows for and encourages the "dreaming in" of fictions not actually present. It's essentially a long poststructural hallucination-study of imagery (mostly of the apocalyptic variety) in millenial popular culture, framed around my own sad sack life.
Don't steal any of that.
Peace out.
In answer to the above questions:
a) Zark: Yes.
b) Dolash: Consider it done.
c) Seth: Yes.
d) Others: Thanks.
Updates, for anybody that feels some misguided lingering attachment to me, or the troublemaking simulacra of me at least:
I've got a degree. My grade-point average was unsurprisingly stellar. Liberal arts education is as full of morons as the rest of the world. I do not have a "real job" (as in, one with any responsibility or hope of advancement), and continue to be the antisocial black sheep of the family. I've written several novels and promptly burned them, but I continue to write for at least four hours a day. I've passed through several bands and am currently in one that I like. We don't make any money and I still suck quite a few dicks at guitar, but as you all know I do have an anxious and negatively-charged charisma that some people mistake for depth, which counts for something. I occasionally do freelance songwriting / lyrical work for other local bands, since we are now quickly approaching the age where our peers realize that they are completely illiterate and that even pop songs require some scant level of eloquence. I suffer from occasional paroxysms of self-doubt over my decision to live in squalor until finding a suitable career in the arts. They don't last too long. I am part of a loose collective of other likeminded wishful drinkers (that's a book, look it up for a laffo, but don't waste your time reading it) with unrealistic artsy faggot dreams.
My latest book is about hyperreality and the hyperreal mediating our interaction with reality. That is, the collective dreamscape (I still use that word as often as I can) which we are all constantly working so hard at bringing into existence. It is also about repetition as the fundamental quality of suburbia, which (maybe) allows for and encourages the "dreaming in" of fictions not actually present. It's essentially a long poststructural hallucination-study of imagery (mostly of the apocalyptic variety) in millenial popular culture, framed around my own sad sack life.
Don't steal any of that.
Peace out.
Hmm, lots of older players returning to say hello recently...
Hello :) and yeah, I'm still bouncy and ineffectual and just generally perky as ever.
Hello :) and yeah, I'm still bouncy and ineffectual and just generally perky as ever.
yo.
Yar!
My house is on fire!
Arrr!