Darrn2's Xanga

Just because...

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 21:59:11 GMT

This past week, I've turned into an ever-nocturnal possum sleeping in on most mornings and evenings, then waking up at 10 for dinner then proceeding to head back to sleep at around 6. It's five thirty. I'm writing this blog primarily to tell you what i'm listening to. Forgo the fact that it's off of Youtube, and rest in the understanding that I'm buying this CD when i find it. My mood exactly? Listen.......here

Music making climates spill from my window most probably more than relieved to have reached their destination after the endless journey from the azure. For now, contentment is to lie here underneath this aperture in the wall and absorb.....along with what's playing in my ear drums. No really, it's a good song.

Airports

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 14:18:38 GMT

The backstage in which we rush about making preparations at the departure terminal for the next crowd, adjusting our fittings, wigs and make-up. Touchdown. The curtains open. The slight possibility that the crowd might cheer if you're a good act. Besides that, they watch intently for a pop, flop, flip, slip, spill or a spelling mistakee. Heehee...point made.
Apparently, most of us dance our hearts out to win theirs. Or at least try to. Others march to their own drum by not marching at all. Or rather, indifferent to what the audience thinks [this relates to the idea of making a statement, by not making one]. Our eyes swiftly pecking glances at the audience for a giggle or a boo. Carry on now, carry on. And if you've saved up enough, it's back to the airport for a makeover to cunningly adapt to please the upcoming crowd once you've landed. I love airports though.
Tough crowd this time around. I've used up my whole bag of tricks. I just might join the laid back un-marchers sitting at the curb eating gourmet food watching the others juggle flaming knives doing handstands atop a huge rubber balls rolling across tight ropes after being shot out of a canon. I don't mind actually, to be on opposite side of the audience (I sorta am). I strive for a good show. It gets tiring when the audience follows you off stage only to gross out about how you cook instant noodles with butter and italian herbs with a slice of cheese on the top. High class tea sippers. I'd love to try that life sometime. I rest in the fact that the God that I know, needs no show...bro...yo (I get pretty darned lame don't I? In fact, He shuns it. It doesn't matter whether you've donned your Giordano shirt/Hugo Boss perfume/7-in-one Listerine/Loreal Paris hair-dye raising your hands to the most recent heart mushing Hillsong or if you break down runny nosed kneeling under a shower singing Everything by Lifehouse...sweat, tears shampoo and all. Speaking of showers, I need one. Physically for the body odor, mentally for the face paint I've layered on in a rush for this next crowd. Maybe this time i'll join neither the clowns nor the chillers. I'll join the handful of runners stopping by anyone who cares to receive the uncomfortable news of the flood plus a ticket to the lifesaving ark of heaven.
Heaven.
Home.
The last stop.
I await the airport of death.
Oh, how morbid!
Jane, it's your fault ;)

Monday, August 31, 2009

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 05:32:53 GMT

3, 2, 1
Write.

Despite a splash array of sizzling colors in a funfair of unquestioned entertainment, the sighs of the sunken lurk behind, jumping into cracks and crevices every time you glance backwards. Hustle, bustle, tousled thoughts, muffled muscle ruffles from the rustle of messy rhythms of reminiscence. Break the bolt of boomeranging memoirs aimed for your brain. Repeat naught. T-shirt grabbed and slip through the mud with who? Spiral downward with the thrill and weight of one who has not checked his parachute. Dinner diverts the dizzy dim of depleting apprehension. Hopefully something else hops into the frame and distracts me from the various theatrics of life.
I feel foolish for I fall for flippant facades of my futile feelings.
I haven't the slightest clue as to which way to go now.
Will these wishy waters where we watch our woken worries wander ever lie still again? Well...I do hope so.
I guess I'm a little over dramatic at the sight of tension. Like a glimpse of the horn tips of a stampede of wildebeests headed over the hills that protect you. Or the current that picks up along with the decibels of the nearing waterfall.

And so we pray. Flying fuel.

-Dash

Friday, July 03, 2009

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 12:03:11 GMT

Okay...chup...Darren...are you here?
You're in there somewhere I know. Speak man...speak your heart. What's really bursting at the seams tonight? He's listening. Embrace vulnerability for a few seconds. Okay...here goes Father.

All I need is You.
The idea of me being unaware of my outward appearance when I get lost in pleasing you, Jesus, still pushes me away.
All I need is You.
This very breath then I take, this clean blood in my veins, the skin on my every complete limb, the bank of accomplishments, the wurlitzer of emotions that I despise and crave for, the fact that You are always and will always be near, these things I overlook so so easily.
All I need is You.
What plans have You for your ignorant, prideful, and arrogant son who constantly runs from your love so infinite and free? You chose me? Really God? Me?
All I need is You.
You know my words are stemmed from the limits of my human understanding, somewhat fake, unexperienced, and unsure. But for all it's worth as I think about You, You my Jesus who would give anything and everything for me, You who watches every drop that streams from these eyes now, You who grabs and wrenches my whole being with Your beckon to be something that rises above it all. To be something greater than my own capacity. To shout your praise louder than my voice may carry. For all that jargon is worth Jesus...here's me.
I love You,
All of my hope is in You,
Jesus Christ take my life,
Take all of me.

This! My heart sings this louder than a thousand amps may magnify any sound.

Friday, July 03, 2009

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 11:46:53 GMT

Today I saw a people pleaser at his extreme. Stretched so thin being careful not to say anything to offend anybody but in doing so, ended up in contradiction to his own words. The need to say everything right, rechecking his own words, correcting himself and covering all angles during his speech as to not leave anything out, amused and bored me. Just in case sentences. He was a conversation and a debate by himself. I saw a lot of myself in him today.
I see why some hardcores take a turn to the other extreme and stick to their guns considering nothing else. I don't want that now really because I'd rather be a Carebear.
But I really don't want to fail at holding everybody's fort down with avoidance of offenses.
Since when did I start caring? Well, since forever.

College

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 16:38:50 GMT

Location : Noodle shop beside the road. Burger King to my right, hookers to my left, sky-train overhead.

So as these bright colored taxis whizz by barely centimeters away from my laptop and face, I wish i had a lomo camera. They are awesome by the way.
Lady boy...ew...oh no!...girly voice...manly face...Sorry....
I agree, I should write. Ooh copper colored taxi. That's a new one.
So to think that the low prices here would allow me to satisfy food and entertainment cravings anytime I wanted...wasn't such a good idea. This is Bangkok man. City life dammit. I want mamak food with 90 cent roti's and 1 ringgit teh tariks when I want to save. I don't like the money saving foods here. No wait, I've found a few good shops I guess. Like this noodle shop for instance. I want another bowl. Wow this is an awesomely interesting blog.
College is great. It has free wifi. *mexican wave*
So Max, our lecturer, (who has an album which I heard way before I met him) gave us 4 assignments and a fifth one for fun. Nothing much to the first four. Just jumbled up notes and audio voices which you have to piece back together like a puzzle. Except that I've got to do it with a new editing program i've never used. [should I order another bowl? It really is tasty...]
I'm on the fifth assignment now which optionally requires us to remix an old school electronic song (made in the 70's [whoa...think about that! A full computer song in the seventies?])
Chill mode out, music menace mode sets in. I'm a geek when it comes to editing.
So off I go...free hand editing I call it. I don't know the use of grid lines that well so I follow my ears. I did a huge tempo switch so my fingers flew to excavate bits and snippets from the actual song itself (which in my opinion is a rather silly song with barely 3 very repetitive chords. It's about guys checking out a girl at a bar. But Max has respect for these "pioneers in electronica" and I have respect for Max so...yeah). Heck it i'm ordering another bowl. I just got a brilliant idea to show you where i'm at. Photobooth. Ah the convenience of a Mac.

The highway right beside my face. If you look closely you can see Burger King in the middle of the picture. See the bright pink taxi?

The noodle shop where i'm at.

The yummy stuff.

My Wentworth Miller face

So where was I. Editing yes...well guess what? As I loaded the screen up with reverses, duplicates, samples and fade clips...the computer started lagging. This is pro tools LE we're talking about here. With the m-box lagi. Or maybe I accidentally switched it off when I unplugged it to put my thumb drive in. Haha.

Coolest thing today was when I reclined in that chair and stared up at a huge poster of SAE with three dj's thanking the college along with their signatures. This one dude looked really familiar. A lot like DJ Qbert, the 1992,1993, 1994 world turntablist champion. My gaze floated down to the signature. No way....no doubt, in graffitti hand writing, Dj Qbert. I mean this dude's got mad skills and precision. Check it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKD0dJvaPOU&videos=e85cdOQWShQ&playnext_from=TL&playnext=1

Two bowls of noodles, a Sprite and Coke and a finished blog. I'm satisfied.

P.S: Come back and we'll dye our hair pink or watch Transfomers or eat spicy pork and labanese food till our guts bust.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 02:28:52 GMT

I need to write.

I haven't slept in two days now neither have I showered yet. It's ten in the morning.
I put in an extra teaspoon of coffee into my milo yesterday. I never do that. I need to remember that i'm a tea person.

I need to write.
Lists. You know they say sometimes we over worry over unnecessary things that really are not worth being worried over. Hence, lists. Clutter removers.
In no specific order. Shower and brush teeth. Zoe's dance mixdown where we are now stuck without ideas. Tonight's beatboxing performance that needs improtant finishing touches. The recording session which you got into trouble for because everyone said it was a go for the next track. Okay nothing to worry about there anymore it's settled. Cutie's piano track. Very important because she's probably reading this. *grin*

That's that.
Now to write!

To write with no aim or shame, to wander and wonder into the unknown and ungrown expressions along with the fewly newly coined words and herds of thoughts, shots, and shorts of life through your lenses.....run like a horse!
Slamming fingers on the typewriter. Where did I watch that from? Google here I come!

Ah, Sean Connery. "Finding Forrester"

[While Jamal is typing on Forrester's typewriter]

Forrester: Punch the keys, for God's sake!

[Jamal begins to hit the keys harder]

Forrester: Yes... Yes! You're the man now, dog!

It definitely left an impression on me, that movie. I dare say I am fond of writing. It is rather risky though as the world consists of many Anton Egos
.
Excuse me, I just watched Ratatouille...again. I love that little rodent.

But! To find ways and means to express an idea in a different un-cliched sort of light in hopes to make the readee slish and slosh with the waters of the writers mind...is exuberating. Or even better, to spell a word like 'exuberating' and not have red dotty lines appear underneath. Yaaaaayyyy.....

Oh yes, the dry spells come. When one can't squeeze even a drop of peril, joy, inspiration, or sorrow. Must there always be famines within the year? Why can't we just pace ourselves? One song a month. Or maybe a good blog post. Or one good laugh every week. Or maybe.....here it comes *drum roll*
....a squeezetighttearysmearyhearttoheart time with the Creator. You know the ones when all senses connect rather than mere choice because of the gloom that surrounds. I am thisclose to deleting the last few sentences. But heck I will roll with it.
Dry spells. I shall now proceed to wrie a few disconnected thoughts that are fragments of the idea. And if you are brilliant, which you probably are, you'd get what I find hard to explain in simple terms.

1) Arm-twisting for consistency's sake does not score well with me. Confucious say : He who forces out farts will end up browned.
Excuse the graphic illustration but I thought that was rather funny.

2) If we were a sort of hen or spider or cow when it came to creativity, disciplin, or love, then all would go well. Out of eggs, webbing, or milk? One moment please. Viola! Out hatches a new surge to hold your wifes hand again. Or a spool of new lyrics for another hit song. Or a pail of refreshing meaning to our purposes on earth. I know I'm weird.
Even those analogies are flawed. They all run out eventually. But less if compared to the consistency of my blog. Still, I feel for the chickens. man......the chickens.

3) "Use the force Luke". What's a typical Darren entry without contradiction?
One does not wait for something to happen man. Make your move homie. Get your butt cheeks up and water a seed. Read a book. Sing a classic. Catch the groove. Get inspired. You're at the pond in autumn, waiting for winter but yet you didn't bring your skate shoes. You walk up to the mound to swing and you're staring straight at the pitcher but a bat, you don't have.
Yoda: Into the spaceship Luke, you must climb....you idiot.

So by now you'd have realized that you're brilliant because you know where my head is at and you're still reading. Lets do the speedo dance.
I feel much better. Let's see.....I wrote a bit down the other day while messing with piano. Ah here's an excerpt that I sortof like from the song.

And....(triplets)
Though we scream and we fight,
To avoid all their blight,
The sun will still be coming out tonight
Over the other side.

Of course it sounds better sung.

Great. I am now sleepy. At 11.30am
Not cool.
.....will finish soon.....

Or not.
I've have run out of writing juice.
And my attention has been redirected to a more recent problem that requires me to shut up about it.
So the Ramble Ridder comes to the rescue.
* Kapwing! * I am made of steel.
Hit me.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 18:38:36 GMT

Oh my goodness it's Darren Ashley at Laundry.

April 16th as Two hand band. Ummm....yeahh...two hand band...don't ask. So have you guys heard the new songs on the myspace yet?

Guys?

guys?

*cricket*

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 19:36:02 GMT

Finally my very own myspace. As an artist...I don't think I even deserve that title yet. But I like the way it sounds. Artist =)
So it's myspace.com/darrenashley okay?

P.S: Something is off with the sound of track 3...please tell me if you think so too.

Oren Lavie is a nice name.

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 09:08:16 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY

me: Oh my goodness this is the most creative junk i've seen in awhile!

aboo.292: bahahaha!

me: I'm most definitely gonna show it to other girls showing them my deep side and love for the arts that will totally impress them....hahahaha

*cue to roll eyes*

aboo.292: oh gosh. you're so lame! stealing from me to impress the ladies *rolls eyes*

hahaha

me: hahaha

aboo.292: i typed "rolls eyes" before you said it!

me: but i DO love it

i know you well

or maybe just girls in general

bwahaha

so narcissistic

aboo.292: lame!!!

Indeed...but still...I like to share the beauty that others pass to me.

No, that's not what I usually talk about.

Now. William Fitzsimmons-Please Don't Go...have a listen.