Hello Gehn, hello Lance, and welcome back, whatever that may mean…
As yet another pathetic pre-qualification to the anticipated incongruity of however this post may turn out… I seem to be wallowing in a cycle of acute resentment of the deficiencies of language. In adolescence I can recall abstract communication was terrifying: yet it was also an adventure; an irresistible force; a welcome challenge; and therefore a source of inherent joy. But more and more it also feels like an obstacle, or a trial to be endured…
About three and a half years ago my older brother decided it was time to willfully end his own life. That should not be taken as a dramatic revelation, for it is not the intention of the form. Then again it is perhaps only another conceit: out of four remaining (full) siblings and - at the time - both living parents; I ascertained myself to be the least surprised/shocked/and [perhaps] put-out party to the whole dynamic.
Before I even knew any details - at the instant my sister informed me “Kris is dead” - I understood the reality.
TWotA, is a shelter, a sanctuary, an oasis. And I’m being melodramatic in full consciousness here.
In some nominal sense, I owned the Atari, while Kris owned the Commodore 64. Kris also happened to own a Piano - a Steinway Concert Grand - for a time before that, that he had procured and paid for out of his own wherewithal. I grew up hearing classical, Jazz, and particularly Boogie and Ragtime standards being practiced on a freaking Steinway Concert Grand Piano most days of my childhood!
Kris was even the first person to ever point me in the direction of Overclocked ReMix, twelve years my senior, yet more wired than myself during my own Amiga mourning period…
At nostalgic times, as now, there is an added edge to my emotional state. Kris was the one direct association I had, who completely shared an understanding of the importance, even primacy, of these seemingly secondary, encoded musical expressions. Another of my closest friends is also very musically inclined, and preoccupied with lament over the sorry state of musical invention… and there’s nothing I could ever do to make him understand the joy in this genre. Electronic music has been the true lifeblood of expression since the end of the heyday of the recording phenomenon. The main custodianship of art and spontaneity changed hands, and chip-music in it’s various forms has been the very center and the source.
Gehn, from what I’ve picked up on about you, I think that may also be a crucial element missing from “gaming” now. I certainly know it’s true for myself, videogame music has lost it’s soul.
Of course there will always be exceptions.
Your take on Buddhism is serendipitous for me, I’ve only recently come to terms with a reality that abstraction itself has been a form of dogma in my life. As such I may run into the tenets of Siddhartha from a quite opposite perspective from most people. You say we may follow our bliss… I’ll also say we all must follow our own bias. For any reaction to be honest, it must in some ultimate sense be reactionary.
Every soul seeks balance, and every soul seeks it from it’s own unique pressures of imbalance.
And Lance, I don’t know if this even means anything. But just for my own psychology, there is a lament about the form some of the abstraction I’ve brought to this forum has taken. I wont use the word regret, for it is an unseemly construct; but I’ve been consciously reassessing my own patterns of accommodation with the world lately… and though (even at 34+ years, in my case) we have all been witness and subject to each others’ evolution and phases here, looking back there are some extroversions I would definitely choose not to repeat.
And Gehn, I’ll make a promise to be wherever, and whenever, if it’s in any way possible, for that meet-up. If only because it’d be so crucially out of character for me… and so perhaps crucial to my own growth.