Mummies Don't have Electricity (Post School Stress)

In an underground room I cut the head off of a mummified corpse with a steak knife. The corpse had been a prominent man and had a black scar on his left cheek. I was going to use his head a MIDI controller.

Of course it didn't work. Mummies don't have any electricity. No damn brainwaves to control sound waves. I felt very guilty and left the head in the theatre.

Summary of Last Semester

Mainly what I did this semester was take 8 classes and create 3 theses. I also learned how to swim.

For my music thesis I recorded samples and made instruments out of them. Bottles clanking created high percussion and water-filled woks made for sweeping wobble-lines. I got tons of gamelan sounds and focused on lining up the pulsing patterns to create a polyrhythmic structure.

I thought it would be super cool to create an interface that used body-motion to control music, and realized it would be possible with a Kinect sensor, Ableton Live, Synapse, and MaxMSP. At my senior show: "The X Sound Festival" I performed the piece: "Dream Leftovers" using a minimalist dance to control elements of the song. It appeared that I was floating because I was lit by backlight, wearing a UV costume I had made, and standing on one leg to use one foot to pan a track, In the end I rolled off the stage into the audience.

My teacher was powerful mad at me for putting a dead coyote in her dishwasher. Actually she was mad for not having a DVD for the X Sound Festival (the DVD drive in the lab was broken). I didn't realize it was an issue because everything worked fine using my friend's laptop, including preemptive messages I had made such as: "Shake into a New Dimension is an application downloaded from the ether, are you sure you want to open it?" and "The X Sound Festival has unexpectedly quit, reopen? Once I had been scolded for being unprofessional for an hour or so I felt ashamed and have hopefully learned my lesson.

 

Here's the part where I get to brag however: after being thoroughly chided my teacher commented on how impressive it was that I had written two songs and made a music video in three weeks, along with creating a multi-media performance art piece. She commented that I had accomplished more with the Kinect sensor technology in a few weeks than the combined efforts of the technical director of Mills and a graduate student had over the course of four months. 

Once I was thoroughly burnt out on working hard I just continued to work hard. I directed my first large video crew and finished my psychology thesis. I had an average of 3 hours a day commuting by bus throughout the semester and would use it to do research for this thesis. I ended up writing about music as a metaphor for brain function, discussing how cross-cerebral neural oscillation synchrony may be a crucial component for cognitive function. There are many brain disturbances that are correlated with brainwave synchrony abnormalities and I proposed new research within three of these areas (schizophrenia, autism spectrum disorders and Parkinson’s disease) involving a relatively new individualized neurofeedback treatment that transforms EEG data into music. 

Now I’m done with my undergraduate degree. I’ve had capstone educational experiences, but it’s still odd not to be thinking about what classes I’ll take next semester. Now I’m busy trying to find a job and an apartment but also making myself deadlines for individual projects like writing an album, making a few DJ sets, making a line of paintings, creating a fashion line, studying for the GRE, Researching all the neuroscience literature on dreaming and learning basic Photoshop, calculus and physics.

Avocado Kingdom

After escaping the summer-camp of Mills campus living I moved into the Avocado Kingdom in West Oakland.

Construction paper decorations lined the halls of the student apartments on campus. As security guards let me into the building (due to the non-working keys I had been given) I was faced with an army of Winnie the Poohs. The flatmates in my "apartment" had added extra rules to the already middle-school-esque list, such as "No Drinking." Apparently taking out the trash wasn't a rule however, as the place stank like a restaurant dumpster in the sun.

I used someone's cutting board on my first day. The next time I opened the cabinet the entire thing was papered, angry sharpie exclaiming: "DON"T USE MY STUFF W/OUT ASKING!" Every time I entered the space whatever roommate was out and about would scurry away, slamming the door behind them.

Outside of my house.

The Avocado Kingdom is built in Victorian style, is over a century old, has a great view of the Port of Oakland and rent there was less than half price of living on campus. I lived with Vas, a Stanford PHD candidate and teacher focusing his rhetoric on animal rights, his wife Debs who had studied physics and art and works a 9-5 on environmental regulation, moonlighting as a torch-singer, Karem, an anthropology PHD candidate at Stanford, and Tina, a mysterious and shy woman who seemed to work at a school in Oakland. To juxtapose the last group of souls with whom I inhabited shared space, my new roommates would feed me vegan ice cream sandwiches and roll on the floor laughing at my jokes. We rotated who's avocados would be stolen based on which ones were ripe (hence the name of our kingdom) and If they took one of my beers they would buy me a six pack. 

In my neighborhood there’s a liquor store on every corner where there isn’t a Baptist church or a beauty supply store. At one juncture the former two stand next to each other, “True Light Church” is white with black lettering and has the same dimensions as “Sav-Mor Liquor” which is black with red lettering. There are projects, newly developed modern apartments, industrial leftovers and current industry, but mostly there are old Victorians in various states of repair - formerly suburbs for San Franciscans at the turn of the century.

My room through avocado leaves

Whenever I would mention that I commuted from West Oakland people would express their concern over my safety walking home through such a "ghetto" area. At one point I was walking home late at night and a van began to follow me slowly. A middle-aged man rolled down his window and with genuine concern said: “Are you alright walking this late at night?” Once I got to my block a shiny sedan tailed me for an uncomfortable distance. The driver of this vehicle seemed to have more malicious intentions than the first concerned citizen. He said “Why are you out so late at night?” I commented that he seemed to be insinuating that it was dangerous for me to be out and noted that he was responsible for said danger. I commented that if he stopped being a threat there wouldn’t be a threat and continued on my way. I started carrying around a mirror shard so that if something like that happened again I could hold it up and say: “You’re dreaming” but it never did.

Realistically I reckon the Lower Bottom (the title of our neighborhood) is one of the safest neighborhoods in Oakland. Our block is filled with people who watch out for each other, bringing one another food and chatting on porches. Everyone’s favorite neighbor is probably a man who goes by “Pee Wee” and takes it upon himself to weed everyone’s yard and tend the grass at the little park on our block. He does this all for free but whenever we would catch him tending our yard we’d make sure to give him a beer.

Corner of my room

One of the best things about my block is that it dead-ends into a vacant lot that’s filled with big metal pipes. I spent a lot of time recording the resonant properties within the pipes, and stopping by late at night to sing my little heart out. One day I was shooting video in the tunnels and was surprised to see some hipsters on a stoop nearby. Later I found a note on my car saying that I was: “Super cute” and asking to hang out. After I had finished two of my theses I finally had the time to kick it on the porch with fellow skinny-jean wearing, vegan hipsters holding requisite Pabst-forties. It’s too bad I had to leave to NM at the end of the semester, because my new hipster neighbor was himself “super cute.”

The best porch drinking experience I had was shared with my roommates. I came home to tell Vas that I would be heading home at the beginning of the summer and he poured me a third of a bottle of his fancy tequila. When Debs got back from work we broke out my shitty tequila and invited every neighbor who walked by to join us. Eventually I took everyone on a field trip to the pipes, but only Debs made it, as the others became engaged in conversation with Pee Wee. She promptly began torch singing and eventually we discovered that the others couldn’t find us and had encountered some mishaps, so perhaps the tunnels can only be seen by wizards. This point is further illustrated by the fact that one day I saw about 2 dozen people with bikes emerging from the pipes, causing me to infer that it’s a hipster-wizard portal.

My roommates half jokingly offered me free rent at the end of my time in Oakland, and we came up with a money making scheme so that I could continue to live there: A vegan ice cream cart called “Polar Bear Sex” (because it’s cool and ironic – ha ha ha). Our music would cater to our demographic and consist of vintage video game jingles done ice cream truck chime style.

At the end of my stay in the Avocado Kingdom my brother and I infused the neighborhood with our obese beats, taking pictures powered with AA batteries, and getting ice cream for dinner at liquor stores. If only Polar Bear Sex did exist – I wouldn’t have to break my veganism for the sake of irony. 

Two Dogs

I was telling my mom about my reoccurring dreams featuring two dogs, as I sat looking at the two dogs in the vacant lot behind my house. I told her about other recent dreams as the sunset made the world gold.

It was around 6:00 am, my dad was black. He said: "If you get this job we can really be proud of you... make us proud." I saw his words as supportive but supportive of a narrow target, I realized that when we were white I could follow whatever dream I wanted but didn't have to live up to anything in particular, or succeed at all really - I was free to be as motivated or unmotivated as I saw fit.

I put on heart shaped sunglasses and a suit, smiling at myself in the mirror. I was so androgynous that even I didn't know if I was male or female, but I radiated self-confidence because I knew I was something to behold.

In a big empty room with white walls I held a tiny baby and was touched at how soft its skin was. I thought to myself: "This being will never be more perfect than it is now." I looked at the people who had created this additional human in the world, comprehending how mysterious it must seem even after having known the process. I thought about how the child would most likely live long enough to face strife and know beauty and thought: "I never want to procreate."

My mom said she was glad that I had known what it was like to be a parent in the dream, without having to go through a lifetime of sacrifice. She said that it is like how I described, and that being a parent was the right thing for her: “Just imagine being your mother,” she said, I replied that that would be too meta. She said she was glad I knew what I wanted. 

Pocket Friend

A group of us snuck onto the roof and it was all covered in shiny white tile. I found a hidden mosaic of a killer whale and fished in my pocket for a camera. Instead I found a tiny white bioluminescent sea creature. It was translucent and had little feelers like a shrimp.

One of my favorite teachers from high school, Monsieur Antoine, was working reception within the building, which was also covered in white tile from floor to ceiling. I asked him if he would let my pocket-friend and I in, pointing out that my the sea creature was dressed for the occasion in its miniature tuxedo, complete with bowtie.

We'll Ride Huge Waves and Freeze Them at the Top

--> (Here's a something I wrote in January and forgot to post until now)

Along with pool dreams my wave dreams have become more frequent. Recently I’ve been recalling 3-4 per week. When Adhit and I first met and went to a night-beach I recall telling him that I had just had a dream featuring a similar location, where giant waves crashed over my head.

Just the other day I visited Jack’s big house, which had several pools. One of them was filled with sea creatures. I watched the otters undulate underwater. “The current doesn’t seem strong…” Jack said “where are the blue and yellow fish?” I noticed several of these huge and shiny fish, creating currents with their tales: “You mean those?” I asked. I wanted to go swimming with the animals but Jack said I would be a foreign element in their ecosystem. Two fat seals with big whiskers sat at the bus stop at the perimeter of the pool.  I made a polite smile and said “Hi.” The fatter of the seals responded: “Hi.”

When the tide came in Jack’s house began to flood (it didn’t have a roof after all). It was on top of a mountain surrounded by sea. The sky was stormy and the surrounding flora was a deep saturated green. I went around collecting my favorite books so they wouldn’t get wet.

Another morning I woke up and told Jack I had a dream about the ocean. “Oh wow, you never dream about the ocean!” she replied. The waves in this one were the biggest I'd ever seen. Little kids were being swirled around without control and I was tempted to join them. My family was on the horizon and I was about to approach them when the tide became too fierce. The waves got as tall as houses and came as far as the row of plastic flamingos that were stuck in the sand.

The next day Jack and I went to Baker Beach in San Francisco, to look at the Golden Gate Bridge and enjoy the winter-night-beach. The waves there were the biggest I’ve seen in real life and I jumped up in down in excitement, thrilled and afraid at the prospect of swimming in them.

Sometime after Jack left, my wave dreams got in a competition and finally selected a victor. I was on a mountain by the beach and adolescents were playing in the waves (I guess the kids from previous dream had grown up). My brother was one of them. The waves were as high as the mountaintop I sat on and I thought: “These are way bigger than waves I’ve seen in dreams.” I got worried about my brother and jumped in to try to save him. I tumbled around, summersaulting with the current, realizing it was fun, and that I could return to the mountain whenever I wanted. “Wouldn’t it be cool if I could freeze a wave at its peak and stay at the top?” I wondered. “If this was a dream that would be possible” I reasoned. I decided to try, just in case it was a dream. I reached the apex of a wave and froze it, staying at the top and smiling. 

My office is the dance-floor

I have like 6 posts all backed up from February and early March, but I haven't posted because I wanted to have pictures, but my camera charger is lost. I ordered a new one and it was sent back because they couldn't deliver it. I haven't ordered a new one. Anyway, there went two months or so. I was just writing in my diary and was suddenly like: "I miss my blog!"

As my blog has slipped into low-tide like so many others, I've been waking up at 5 or 6 and working till midnight. I'm obsessively dissolving into a reality of my own creation, and am completely enthusiastic about it - I just don't know where to start describing all the ideas and projects I'm working on!

The reason I though I should write a quick blog post is because I was on the phone with my dad as I rode the bus, telling him about how I am most efficiently productive when I'm on the bus. I've read my entire Music Cognition textbook, and most of my the journals for my psychology thesis on the bus. The other day, as my little body shook loosely within this big singing machine, I got more done on the obese beats I'm making in an hour than I do in about 5 in a quiet room with an almond milk latte. I came up with a music video idea for my Video II group project entirely on the 40-minute ride to school (because I forgot to do so before then) and was personally satisfied with the result. My enthusiasm leaked to the rest of the class and I was selected to be the director of our group project.

When you have to intentionally block out a jangling discord it's a lot easier to really focus. When you have a silent workspace it can be painful to get into, and remain on one task. It makes sense that I prefer to work amidst some kind of chaos - I've always found it easier to sleep if there is a party raging in the background and when I was a baby my mom couldn't get me to sleep without shaking me around to Tom Waits.

My office is the dance-floor, I really can't focus without overpowering beats and strobe lights.

Shell

One day Jack and I felt under the weather and took a nap. I awoke abruptly after speaking with Jack at the foot of an ancient staircase and said: “What did you mean by that?”

At the foot of those stairs Jack had either said she wasn’t in her human form, or that she wasn’t in her real form.

A few days later I asked Jack again what she meant, stating that I didn’t feel I fully knew her, and wanted to see through her polite and protective shell.

She mentioned some darker details from her past and said that when she feels very sad it’s like she’s in between worlds. The space between us was opened and infused with heaviness, sweetness and magnetism.