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Old 05-13-2017, 06:50 PM   #1
Tuma
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Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

Formerly titled: STFO! (stay the **** out)/Try Angels (but really, don't.)/Whose ****ed up dream is this?

Hi. I don't care too much if you (contested reader; sorry to S.K. for hijacking your device!) detest my word choice or style, but please remember to be respectful to the author (mua) or whoever is crazy enough to comment on this blog.

I am (first and foremost) a major depressive (who isn't?) that uses words and typing machines to cope. There is going to be ugliness in these posts, in the words and tenses, and bastardized grammar, but it will be honest; that I promise.

Most of these "essays" will be on american culture, biographies, geometry, and love.

Poker may hold a central theme as it relates to almost everything in life. Take The Fundamental Theorem of Poker for example:

Quote:
Every time you play a hand differently from the way you would have played it if you could see all your opponents' cards, they gain; and every time you play your hand the same way you would have played it if you could see all their cards, they lose. Conversely, every time opponents play their hands differently from the way they would have if they could see all your cards, you gain; and every time they play their hands the same way they would have played if they could see all your cards, you lose.
Can be applied to all social 'games' and interaction; relationships -- act as if you know their cards and they know yours. I wonder who David was thinking about when writing his book...


-------

July 27th, 1993

Formerly titled: Peach Harmonics and the I.S./Epicenter of our Soul

I don't talk to many people irl, so I don't know how children of the 50s feel towards 90s rock. It's too simplistic to link 'what is great art' to 'what was available during the vulnerable (teenage) years of life', of course. Everyone longs for the song on the radio when they pulled over for the first time... unless she gave you cold sores.

Classic rock is symphonic and authentic. It's easy to get lost in the stories told and technical genius.

But nothing screams heroin like 90s alternative. I cry when Nirvana comes on, and weep unabashedly to this:



which came as a surprise/
I spoke into his eyes/
I thought you died, a long long time ago...


I've had long thoughts about Cobain and his pain and it sucks and I don't wanna talk about it. I'd rather share a moment in the sun...

Quote:
Siamese Dream was recorded mainly between December 1992 and March 1993. The band relocated to Triclops Studios in Marietta, Georgia for the album sessions, so they could avoid local friends and distractions,[13] and to cut Chamberlin off from his known drug connections.[14] Butch Vig reprised his role as producer after working on their debut album Gish.

After he suffered a nervous breakdown, Corgan began visiting a therapist. Consequently, his lyrics became more explicit about his troubled past and his insecurities.[13] "Today" was the first song written by Corgan for Siamese Dream.[12] He played the self-recorded demo to Vig, and received a positive reaction.[12] Soon afterward, executives from Virgin Records came to observe the band after hearing about their problems, but were pleased with the demo and did not soon return to the studio.[12] The reaction from the executives only served to put more stress on Corgan.[9] Corgan worked overtime, practically living in the studio for the recording of Siamese Dream—he and Vig would sometimes work on a 45-second section of music for two days, working 16-hour days for weeks at a time to achieve the sound Corgan wanted.[14]
Which happened to coincide with this...

Quote:
In 1993, he married his longtime on-again, off-again girlfriend Chris Fabian, art conservator and artist. They were married at a small ceremony at his house in Wrigleyville.[59] Corgan and Fabian separated in late 1995, and divorced in 1997. Corgan refused to discuss the subject in interviews, saying "There is not and will not be any public record on my marriage – that's one thing I have to draw lines around."[60] He nevertheless described the circumstances of his marriage in his online Confessions in 2005.[59]
and this...



Here's to you, Billy. For a moment you found love and produced the most authentic rock music this world has ever known. Thanks for everything. -just another fan

*I.S. = Infinite Sadness; from The Smashing Pumpkins' follow-up album: Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, 1995


http://billycorgan.livejournal.com/tag/confessions (not for the faint of heart)

Last edited by Tuma; 05-13-2017 at 07:10 PM.
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Old 05-13-2017, 10:01 PM   #2
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

Will be following
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Old 05-13-2017, 10:23 PM   #3
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

Quote:
Originally Posted by Rexx14 View Post
Will be following
Of course the land down under is welcome in this personal hell. You are missed.
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Old 05-14-2017, 08:53 PM   #4
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

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Old 05-14-2017, 10:43 PM   #5
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

Mr. Iceman Grabs The Title

Ft'd: Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio?/Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you./"A Beautiful Man"
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Old 05-17-2017, 04:33 PM   #6
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

The last few days have been weird.

I broke a site-wide rule and made a gimmick account. It's a good rule because t+t originated as a place for learning and continues to be to this day. So not being especially genuine is frowned upon. Because the 4th wall in this place is tremendous, and those hoping to learn, and continuing to learn, receiving purposeful bunk information without realizing it is garbage.

But it's also "the internet", ya know? It's an expression of real life, it conveys information that connects humans and machines all over the world. Without it, many would still be in "the dark" on a lot of stuff. I cherish things like Wikipedia despite not reading it nearly enough. I value the creativity on perpetual display on the internet. And I especially value the men and women that dedicate their lives to securing the landscape in America.

-------

I have a love/hate thing with weed. I've been medically certified to purchase and use, and at some point I hope to write about those experiences. Having a legit "go-to" for eating and sleeping problems that doesn't cause instant death upon over-using is an amazing gift for veterans and other people with disabilities.

But I don't wish for it to be full-blown legal (sorry 420 peeps ), although I haven't seen the landscape in the southern belt where carrying grass gets you put in cell.

The psychoactive effects aren't always fun. Drugs have side effects.. such is life.

I am hesitant to use any terms used in popular psychology (hi everyone that worked to get their name inside the cover page in the DSM V!), but for simplicities sake -- I am an introvert.

I sort-of enjoy spacing out and gathering my thoughts. The "soft-of" is mild dismay at the world disappearing before me while I'm thinking. It's been getting less difficult to find that balance between "thoughts" and "getting **** done", but it's useful despite being an overriding habit.

Weed as a rule exacerbates the thought machine. The medicine which reduces my anxiety is like a breathe of fresh air, but the psychoactive side is mildly dangerous for me, this I know.

I have an affinity to the past and memories. Making sense of them has been universally beneficial, but it's still almost too-easy to wander down real events in imaginative geometric space while using weed. Sometimes it's scary, more because of elements of unknown than a disposition with what I know to be real; but it's the meta that gets to me. "Thinking about thinking" tends to be a very useful, but nevertheless a mobius strip.

So I can't get behind full legislation without knowing how it will be received by those underage and those of-age whose brains aren't "fully developed" or whatever. I wouldn't give much of a **** if mental health facilities were 100% for the patients, because the effects aren't THAT deleterious; but they aren't yet in my neck of the woods and likely in most places.

One thing that needs to happen, legislation or not, is more standardization for cannabis as medicine. A Vietnam hero goes to get some bud and finds out the hard way that the selection wasn't grown with care.. how and why does that happen?

The silver lining, saving grace, whatever, of course, is the statistical virtue of culture in America: the most important things have been getting better over time. I believe they will continue to.
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Old 05-18-2017, 03:36 PM   #7
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

No Crying In Baseball
Alternatively titled: Sandlot Tales (1)/"Let her go"

Quote:
From Junior's Induction Ceremony 7/24/16:

"...I started to get emotional up there, and one of the old-timers hollered "let her go." [edited/non-sic]
I distinctly remember the uncertainty heading into summer ball at the age of 9. In the two preceding seasons there was an exclusive focus on having fun. We bent our brims in funny shapes, wore our pants backwards, and sought out excellence in the practice of chewing (sunflower seeds) and spitting. The score was always tied. Pitchers did not pitch -- they wore a helmet and stood next to a coach that only threw meatballs. Ground balls on the infield would turn into home runs, leading to party-mode activation and cheers from everyone.

Things changed at 9. The first season of kid pitch. The thought of getting drilled for the first time excited nobody. We were assured it wouldn't hurt that bad. I got mine out of the way in a scrimmage before the season.

We were the green team, naturally assigned The White Sox, facing the grey team that had a big mean looking kid warming up to pitch.

I step into the box, under 100lbs, blinded by courage and knowing I couldn't let the guys on the bench down.

Fastball at my feet. Beaned flush against the inside of my right ankle. I sit down and cry, get taken out of the game. I walk around and realize it's no big deal. "Rub some dirt on it!" someone would have yelled if I'd stayed in the game.

The pitcher's name was Sean Kubiak. Being noted as 'big and mean' was about the greatest compliment you could receive on the diamond. I didn't know him and had no hard feelings about it, it was part of the game and I felt more like a man than I had the day before. I barely made the cut for a late summer team that year, traveling to different cities to play weekend tournaments. Sean's Mom drove me to the first tournament that year. We stopped at a restaurant outside the softball complex. She gave us quarters to use at the arcade, and asked me if I'd ever had mozzarella sticks.

"No."

This sent Sean into a bit of a tizzy. "What?!?!?! You've never had them before!?!?!?!??"

We feasted, and it was the fondest moment of that summer. Sean passed away a few years ago from today. Everyone that knew him was aware he was one of the good guys. A tough competitor with a great sense of humor.

As baseball players, we were taught to keep our emotions in check during the game. "No crying," is just one of many unwritten rules composing the litany of the game's tradition.

There is a trend among young MLB players to show more emotion, rather, to be less offended when someone else shows emotion. There is a necessity to police the game with 95mph fastballs thrown inches away from the skull. It would be better without that need, but that's the game; teams need to be held accountable so that players don't get injured. Down most of life's other avenues this is venomous and unfathomable -- but baseball players are tough as nails, in case you didn't know.

Last year amended the 'no crying' rule. Jose Fernandez died midseason.

The Marlins played the next day. Dee Gordon led off with a tribute to Jose. He is not a power hitter.. and had the numbers to prove it. Something like 350 at-bats that year, zero home runs.



[all words redacted]

Last edited by Tuma; 05-18-2017 at 03:43 PM.
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Old 05-25-2017, 01:18 AM   #8
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

I found a point in Euclidian space. The method abridging the solution involved a metaphor of a triangular prism traveling at uniform speed towards my solid form. I was then greeted by a line segment that would not bend or re-position; which was utterly baffling due to a historical mis-understanding of the form of shapes. I sought out a quadratic function to better understand the line. There was a missing segment on the function, and clues in the form of arrows -- arrayed in patterns relative to the original line segment -- sent me in the direction of a point that would have seemed lost at sea to an untrained eye, rather an ordinary day for Euclidian space travelers. I approached, and set a flat circle to encompass it. To better understand the point, I set the walls of the circle to shrink at a speed inverse to the distance from the origin.

The radius half of what it was, the point had disappeared.. only to re-appear above in glitter and constellation.

Last edited by Tumaterminator; 05-25-2017 at 01:29 AM.
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Old 06-29-2017, 02:02 AM   #9
Tuma
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Re: Peach Harmonics and the I.S. (Kid Anthem)

just wrote a solid 400 words of pure megalomania and narcissism. woe is me for getting my account in such standing that i can't click anywhere without getting logged out. i guess that's what happens when you send harassing PMs to moderators and admin!

anyways. it was a goodbye post. my head was in a weird place 2 months ago, and i fell into a depressive thing and smoked way too much pot. i was interested in statistics and computers and began studying, even took out a library book. then i fell into a trap of thinking about the past.

i went a solid 6 or 7 years without thinking about an ex girlfriend. she was the reason i started thinking in the first place. imagine Road Runner speeding along a desert highway with signs popping up on the right-hand side -- Cliff = 100 yards; Cliff = 50 yards; but for me it was like--

Cliff = We failed
Cliff = Just kidding. I was the one that failed you.
Cliff = Why did I fail?
Cliff = Because I'm an idiot.
Cliff = That's too simplistic. What is it that makes me an idiot?

and then a cloud of dust.

i really didn't have logical thoughts, or transitioning thoughts, or save states, or much imagery or purpose with my thinking before that. so truly, thanks for the life lessons. You were right about everything, and I should've listened better.
goodbye, and thanks again (2p2) for helping me to see truths and accept them.

/blog

PS - Mr. Iceman is my hero, Bobby Fischer.
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