Vincente Amigo warbles from my Motorola phone. I'd transmit his warblings to my headsets, but I don't really feel like it. I'll enjoy his acoustic bumblings from a bit of a distance. As my _amigo_, Christián, is obsessed with Flamenco, the _genre_ of music that Vincente "belongs" to, I choose to listen and (attempt to) absorb such artists time and again. I haven't been too successful, truthfully, though on third listen, elements pattering around me during these moments do have **their** moments. That is, He...
Insomnia. It must be either something that I ate or an interior psychological taint that awakened me at four and leaves me sleepless. So, instead of moping or stringing up more Mennonites, I'm sitting in my bed in Seminole and writing. Thus, my morning routine begins early. On the topic of routines, the deadline for the new _Disquiet Junto_ is today and it is all about routine. Specifically, the resultant composition should follow a daily routine, or, rather, be an interpretation of a daily routine. That ...
I awaken from slumber thinking about Jazz Standards and analyzing their chord progressions with reference to their melodies. I've spent a good amount of time doing such things, though not in a while. When I was writing much of _Jēmaraz_, I was highly influenced my my studies of different Jazz Standards. Since then, I've drifted into a modal territory that is wholly my own. It's time to take a step back and see how my new methods line up with studies of Jazz Standards. So I'll put some time aside to go throu...
The synthesist known as grüm~pé sings in my ears. Well, he doesn't actually sing. His synthesizers sing. This is a preferable state of affairs as whoever said _the human voice is the most beautiful instrument_ was a moron. He / she / it clearly knew nothing of synths. grüm~pé is an inspiration to listen to. Most of his music is done on Modular and his use of timbre encourages me to fiddle with the modulation parameters of my Argon8 until the pads of my paws are raw and running, and especially fiddle with th...
My alimentary habits have left my brain soggy this morning. I know there are certain things I should not eat, yet a voice from one of my internal modules tells another internal module that something would taste good. Or, and in the case of yesterday, that whispering module mentions to other modules that I should _go with the flow_ and eat what everyone else is eating - join the crowd - be a part! So I accompanied my mother to _Dairy Queen_ after our stint at the casino to procure three _Hungr-Busters_ and t...
Today's morning music has been Tangerine Dream from their boxed set _In Search of Hades_. At the moment, a concert from the Royal Albert Hall burbles from my telephone. Since I am neglecting my audiophile tendencies listening via the immaculate telephone speaker, I shall cast the music through the aether to my headphones whilst I write. Ah! Now the burbles of synths caresses me stereophonically. As I began a mini-Tangerine Dream journey whilst working with Force Majeure, I sorted a bit through the so-called...
Chlöe Herington's new album pulses from the Fairphone. Yeah - I know I should be more audiophile oriented, but it is early morning in the universe and all my senses are so blunt that you could easily bash a Mennonite's skull in with them. Not that I have anything particularly against Mennonites. I just chose the word because it was the first thing that came to mind and because Seminole is full of them. Most likely, a good number of people, arbitrarily chosen, would find me crass, insensitive and possibly ev...
I strolled through Pagan Park this morning. In fact, I just arrived. I sat on a **PINK** several times and wrote with Nextcloud Notes. Now, I am a big fan of Nextcloud and its synchronization with Joplin has been flawless to _date_, but the app that is for simply thurking notes failed whilst trying to save my writings to the _cloud_. Also, said writings cannot be found anywhere on the telephone. I assume them to be lost as logging into Nextcloud (or, rather, **OWNCLOUD**) Notes simply gives me an error and ...
Today is a day for _toil_. I differentiate _toil_ from _work_ as the former is usually unpleasant. Of course, the border between one and the other is wide and blurry, as most borders must be, though it seems that some need a computing device the size of a small moon to come to that conclusion - especially those with a black and white _work_ vs _vacation_ mentality are susceptible, though that is another, if related, topic altogether. Anyhow, today is a day of _toil_. I differentiate _toil_ from _work_ as t...
When I am in the _homeland_ (I laughingly call West Texas the _homeland_), I am truly a morning person. My mind collapses late in the evening, circa 20.45 or 21.00. By 22.00, I'm a corpse, breathing out its last fumes of the day. I rise from the spongy tomb at 6 the next morning, head throbbing but ready to create whatever chaos comes to synaptic majesty. I just checked and found that _Yak_ is down. I'll have Marisa check on that tiny but ostensibly resilient machine when she returns to Logroño later today...
Often, I've thought about the move towards discrete forms of communication. The idea of all the pertinent points of a certain _conversation context_ being apparent within the _discrete_ conversation itself fascinates me. To achieve such a thing, all or most exterior information would need to be reiterated. By _reiterated_, I mean that whereas many points would be known from a context outside of the _discrete_ conversation, such as from past conversations, hearsay, gossip or even cultural myth, **all** would...
