Boogie Blues to Blame

I took refugee in blues, only to find out that it backfires.

Because every time I hear that twelve bar tunes, I remember that boogie rhymes.


I'm such an idiot.

Some says life is an adventure.

So I think, it would spoil the fun if it's planned beforehand, right?

To enjoy an adventure is to push ourselves toward uncharted lands, unknown seas, primeval forests, undocumented ruins, and so on, and so on.. Challenging our own sense of fear to instill wonder and awe every time we stumbled upon something new. Ever wandering, ever in awe.

And thus, life is too. Provided the first sentence is an acceptable statement..

When Son House began his supposedly life choice as a pastor in a Baptist church around 1920s, he wouldn't expect to be "expelled" several years later because of his bad habits. Further little chances he expected his life would be turning again, this time since 1925, when he decided to grab a guitar and began learning some blues, the kind of music he had been adamantly hostile to in his preaching years. Now, he is primarily famous as a blues singer and guitarist, and mostly noted for his emotional singing.

When Buckminster Fuller began his early school years, struggling in his seemingly incompetent mind to understand geometry, as he couldn't understand the basic abstraction to imagine a chalk dot on the blackboard represented a mathematical point, he wouldn't expect that years later, he would be renowned as an innovative architect, designer, and visionary. His most famous creation that last until this day, and has been seen as a pinnacle of modern architecture, is his geodesic dome: a lattice structure that could maintain his sphere shape and sustain his own weight without practical limits, lightweight, and stable.

And you must have known, albeit a little, about a particular patent clerk, which had his job provided by his relative because he had been jobless for years; a man, who wouldn't expect that his thoughts and scribbles he occasionally pondered in his free time at work, would be the key to unlock the ability to develop the most devastating weapon of mass destruction in 20th century. A weapon, that definitely ended World War II. That man would also, in his later years, be considered as one of the greatest physics scientist in this world, and his name would become somewhat an idiom of genius. You know that man.

And I, I wouldn't expect that when I first blowing my dad's harmonica, back then on my elementary school years, and then leaving the instrument since my high school years, that I would eventually going back to that instrument and eventually getting a (just a little!) proficiency in it.

Up until my third year in university, I have been listening to a diverse genres of music, but mostly easy-listenings and bossa nova. I did have a little collection of blues, but I wouldn't expect that I would be so passionately absorbed by that genre, up until the beginning of 2013. 

How did that happen?

The first momentum is in not so far a past, at the last quarter of 2012, when I heard one of my friend playing Robert Johnson's guitar licks some night in the terrace of HMM's base in campus. I asked him if he ever know about Robert Johnson, and he surprised that I know of him too. Been a not-that-close friends since we knew each other when we get to the same undergraduate program (which is mechanical engineering), we had been playing some Robert Johnson's songs together, he with a guitar, I with my dad's harmonica. 

And he did pique my further interest in blues, and further revelations that blues, since its early beginnings, have been incorporating the sound of a particular kind of harmonica, the "blues harp". As I further dig into the subject, I found that my dad's harmonica is actually commonly used in folk musics and Asian musics (the folk thing actually have been known by me for some time, as I had been listening to Bob Dylan before that), and it is called tremolo harmonica. But to play blues, you have (not really that strict, actually) to play blues harp, or diatonic harmonica. And so away I went, to Gramedia book store (yeah, a book store) to buy my very first, Blues Harp, in the key of A.

I honed and honed my skills playing the harp, learning some tricks, bending, warbles, wah-wahs, etc, initially only to satiate my curiosity with this instrument, and the many dimension of blues sounds I can create. About the genre itself, at first I only focused in making some cool sounds and a particular "blues" tunes, as it basically quite a simple chord progression to learn: the "twelve bar blues".

But then, the second momentum happened.

I don't really want to elaborate the story behind this momentum, and I don't think I really need to. What is clear is this: because of that second momentum, I feel like I finally getting (a tiny bit of) the soul, the driving force behind the blues tunes that makes it a distinctive genre of music. And because of that second momentum, I was drawn more intimately about the true value, the true face of blues.

Blues emerged sometime around 1890, and had shaped itself, maturing around 1930 to 1950 as a particular genre. Coming from, and primarily played by black folks in the United States, as a mean to channel their lamentations, distresses, and frustrations as a shunned minority and their hard roles as workers mainly in plantations, burdened by poverty, even after slavery had been abolished and peace returned after the Civil War, primary (and even to this day, in some cases) blues songs' lyrics has never strayed too far from hard day's working, love lifes turned bad, living penniless, or desperation living as a whole. That, and blues tunes, incorporating mainly "blue notes", really created a sound of wailing, despair, yet always struggling to keep head's high and trying to be able to smile at one's own misfortunes, a kind of irony.

The name "blues" itself derived from more than one source, primarily thought to be from "blue devil", the term of evil spirit in old African myth, that harasses men's life with sufferings and despair; and the second is from the feelings of despair itself; sadness, feeling blue.

And so, blues is mainly about feeling blue, with style.

A particular thing happened in the past. 

Basically a sensitive person, I couldn't stop my feelings to turn blue.

But I'm a man.
I would not wet my cheeks with tears.
And so, I began playing my harp.
This time, with the true soul of the Blues.

Because I can only admire the beauty of the moon from afar, with no ways possible to reach it with my hand.

But enough about the second momentum.
I surely would not expect that.

This time, I have six harps; all primary keynotes, with the key of B absent. I don't yet buy that one.
Right now, I have a chance to play alongside an emergent indie band, which has been submitted their songs in SoundCloud recently.

It's really a wonder; I have never ceased to be fascinated by the fact that some events could really turned a man's world upside down.

I'm basically a man that's living in the now. I don't really like spending my time wondering about the future; it's all vague, a mix of gray, white, and black; never really crystallize into a particular shape.

But now, already deciding something, and evaluated all my emergent options and interests this past two years, I find myself at a crossroad. Not that kind of Robert Johnson's Crossroad Blues, although some elements may be the same ..

But a crossroad, that whatever path I choose, I would always be sure to have that feeling linger, because, looking from a point of view, they're all the same.

And I would set the blues, again, as my guide.

It actually has been quite a while since I drew that picture, which is on the cover of a notebook I bought from TOKEMA. But it is definitely some time after the second momentum. At that time, all I thought was about crossroads; as a representation of my indecisiveness and gloomy future, ever wondering how this story of mine would end.

It will always have a special place in my heart, nevertheless. 

However it will turn out. 

However lame or dull the ending.

However painful it was.

However beautiful it was.

And so, to end this post, I give to you a Skip James' song, with his overwhelmingly deep, ever saddening minor E tuned guitar's sound.

Hard Time Killin' Floor Blues
by Skip James
1931

Hard time's is here
An ev'rywhere you go
Times are harder
Than th'ever been befo'

Um, hm-hm
Um-hm
Um, hm-hm
Um, hm-hm-hm

You know that people
They are driftin' from do' to do'
But they can't find no heaven
I don't care where they go

Um, hm-hm
Um-uh-hm
Mm-hm-hm
Um, hm-hm-hm

People, if I ever can get up
Off a-this old hard killin' flo'
Lord, I'll never get down
This low no mo'

Um, hm-hm-hm
Hm, um-hm
Hm, hm-hm
Hm, hm-hm-hm

Well, you hear me singin'
This old lonesome song
People, you know these hard times
Can't last us so long

Hm, hm-hm
Hmm, hmm
Hm, hm-hm
Hm, hm-hm, oh Lord

You know, you'll say you had money
You better be sho'
But these hard times gon' kill you
Just drive a lonely soul

Um, hm-hm
Umm, hmm
Umm, hm-hm
Hm, hm-hm-hm

(guitar)

Umm-hm
Hmm-hm-hm
Umm-hm
Hm-hm-hm
Hmm, hm-hm-hm

(guitar to end)
~

A Quiet Time in the Morning

...And just another sketch-less entry posted again.

While it's safe to assume that I have some readied sketch in the shelf, I chose not to post them here, because it would really be out of context with what I'm gonna talk about.

It's strange with what just a few encounters can do to a person. It would, I think, be stranger if the said person is not changed permanently by it. For rare moments could make much greater impressions than occasional meetings, is how it will dearly affect the individual.

For right now, it has changed me much. It has changed how I view the world, it has changed how I perceive other people's intentions, it has changed.. my motivation.

The old me would never dreamed to be in this place, faraway from home, alone, in a big house owned by somebody I have only met by a week.

                But now I'm here, savoring the solitude, savoring the moment when I can get real.

The old me would never really dare to pursue something so far fetched, so diverging from the path I take now.

                But now it's never get out of my head, it's like I have directed all my mind and energy to pursue it.

The old me would never really get past the ability of occasional harpist...

               ..while right now I have several instruments that I've played daily.

while it's true that I've experienced some hard times, some moments I've thought I was broken, but now it's feels like it is just an exercise.. some grand remark, but I do think now, that I was only bent down.

The base now is getting firmer by the bending; it's like I can finally take on anything now that I have experienced those moments.

Right now, I'm on an internship in some mining company on different island. I have no relatives here, no colleagues here, I'm here on my first time. I am exactly a stranger here, and the people around me were strangers.

Some might wonder, what kind of a mind would go that far from the comfort zone..? What drives it? At what cause? And what cost?

Those questions might be too overrated, that these kinds of things is actually quite ordinary; and the root cause itself couldn't be much simpler, to the point of laughable when you think about it in a serious tone. What's special about it is that it's my experience, it's exactly my synapses and dendrites inside my brain who caught these sensations which built up a memory; and then, a motivation.

A motivation that someday, somehow, I will be free from all dependence. Someday I will be able to walk without any fear, stepping without get distracted by pebbles, seeing without being irritated by the flash of lightning, hearing without being disturbed by noises, tasting without antipathy of rottenness, feeling.. with no fragility to parting.

A motivation that someday, I will be able to hold on by myself, walking tall amidst the hubris, all supported only by my spine. A feat that right now is far from being achieved, because this meddling brain still have some petty issues to take.

For there are no greater satisfaction in my life other than being able to love and life freely, with frugality, with no one else to depend upon but myself. Right now, I'm pursuing that ability.

And this quiet, alone time in the morning, I shall face all my fears and anxiety, uncertainties and probabilities, from taking on such a big leap from my comfort zone, to the realm of the real world, without anyone else. I have never done this before, which is all the more reason why I have to do this and see it through. By the time I've finished, I will be able to take on everything.

So that's how's my mind doing right now. Having a big house all by myself on foreign neighborhood without any friend around really is like some kind of retreat. Some kind of solitude. Some kind of.. meditation.

And I think it really help me coping with my bent state right now. It gives me resolution.

It gives me something worth fighting for.. freedom.

Paper Plane

http://vimeo.com/63120994

As cheesy as the premise possibly look, I can't deny that this short film offers genuine enjoyment that's nothing short of incredible.

No words, no hue, except some red color. No mind-blowing story, just a heartwarming spectacle. But that's enough. Director John Kahrs and those animation guys at Disney really did a good job showing only what's important, gouging unneeded gestures and effects without making it too simplistic and shallow. And Christophe Beck could not have created a more fitting music; it fits perfectly, it dances along with the progressions; an exceptional consumption for the ear.

What's left is a strong impression of an idea, a small quite-possibly-surreal episode of someone's life in this 50'esque era, about a little story around a paper plane (or planes) and its' relentless pursuit of achieving what it intended to do: sending a message.

Someday, I will be able to create artworks of this level; and more, however my life's work ended up to be. Don't ever let your career hinder your passion; I will not let that happen.

Someday...

Welcome to London

...And here's just another ramblings I just have to write this day.

A rambling borne from a wild mind running through the day, a rambling about wandering. Yeah, wandering outside again, sketching, just like old times (though what I said old times maybe actually means not older than two months ago).

A wandering borne from exhaustion from taking so many jobs these past weeks. Not to mention daily curbs of sleep time. And then there's multitude of administration works I have to take. Something I've never like. One might wonder what I'm doing, I'm already in my fourth year of college, yet still I'm bound to these.. campus social businesses. Yeah, one might wonder. I wonder myself. 

A wondering borne from my inability to reject responsibility, however dislike I have to be on charge on something. Guess I really am the hard-type to say no to be asked something. If I can do it, then I have no legitimate reason to reject it. Then there comes a heap of commitment, and higher stakes of integrity. 

It's not without its benefits. With these piles of tasks, my mind keeps occupied. Just like what happened before, to another person. The irony is, it's creating a cycle. One can only break free from this cycle by letting go. Right now, there's still many works demand attentions. One by one I will finish it, then I will go somewhere. 

It's not necessarily far, not necessarily beautiful the destination. What I count more is the journey. That's why I always prefer taking journey by bicycle or foot. The least choice is public transportation. Then I will always have a sketchbook and a set of pencils in my bag, ready to be taken whenever chances presented itself for me taking a sketch.

Yeah, but right now I have to be patient. It's not about breaking free from the hectic routine, it's about finishing what I have started. Taking responsibilities from my choices. The consequences is standing on the end of the tunnel, waiting for the train I drive to reach it.

..Catching the train to London.

Whiiiiteeeeeeeeeeee

Because I'm shamefully transparent right now.

Keep Walking

Humanity has been roaming this world for more than 200.000 years.

In-between those times, they spread out, grow, built civilizations.

They nurtured their offspring, building marvels for the future.

Some of the times, they clashed at each other, they waged wars.

And brought despair and sorrow upon themselves.

..

I am just a small boy.

A tiny little light on the sea of candles.

My story is just one of many stories other lights have experienced.

I have but one soul, one pair of eyes to see, one heart to feel.

I am not God, I can't perceive the feelings of all people over the world.

My eyes can only see the world how my mind would want to see.

And my heart is frail, receiving only single input from my senses.

And now, I must be honest, inside me dwell despair and sorrow.

The world around me seem to collaborate and dance with the misfortune I have gained

but of course, it's because I am just a small, tiny soul.

Who are unable to see beyond his earthly shell of flesh and bones.

But over time, I could have guessed, this will dissipate.

As one man couldn't said it better, there is no way to defeat despair.

All you can do, is keep walking.

And by the end of the day, I will be stronger.

...

I have left the red carpet. The flower of change awaits me beside the desolated road.

And I won't look back.

Just a Crude Comic I Made on New Year's Eve of 2013