Posts by shane edwards

My blog is and it's only just recently up and being published to. Give me a read, maybe give me a like, and if you're into following blogs, maybe you should do that. Or write one yourself, and pass me the link if you think I'll bite.

Dozen Days Dope-Free


So I’ve turned on my Facebook again so that I could reach out to people in my life who would care that I’m a dozen days drug-free, or at the very least, provide a post of stability with which I can be socially pressured to take talking openly about my addiction seriously and resist moments of weakness.

I would say so far, that this has provided me — in addition to how fed up with it all I’ve become — with the will to not really have too much difficulty so far. It boils down to, do you really want to not be using, like badly enough to do… or do you just wish that you were strong enough? …And, pride-less enough. Because you sort of have to be open about whether or not you are or not using. At least, I do.

So I’ve been posting small posts there.

I have been turning down social occasions that involve alcohol because I know at this early stage that could be all it takes to change my mind. I’ve been investing a lot of my money into a very expensive hobby that is basically leaving me broke, and forcing me to use my energy to do things… without stimulants… so that at least at this stage, even if I wanted to break my resolve, I don’t have the spare money to do it.

I bought a Ryzen 5 1600 processor and an MSI B350 motherboard. I’m going to be picking up a GPU and case with my next paychecks.

It’s funny because building a PC is a project I started on speed, one which usually doesn’t get finished because its too big for the scope of the mind of a tweaker.

The first thing I had to do was DRAG myself out of bed, after a week of sleeping, and be like, “Okay, I’m not going to get high, what am I going to do?” and this expensive computer part shows up at my door.

And I’m like… well… I guess I’m going to build a computer. So I’ve been forcing myself to learn how to do it and its been occupying my mind and I think….

The problem a tweaker has is the inability to get anything done without artificial stimulation. Its the problem I have anyway. And so, I’e just been doing it without, solely based on the fact that I manicly invested a lot of money into a computer part while high.

So ironically, the project I am continuing sober is helping to adjust my mind to being productive on my own… doing a thing that I never would have done if I hadn’t been using.

My, this fits into a lot of my categories. Learning to write and continue these things I started while using is going to take some time. But I’m doing it.


Kicking Speed

I do not want to complicate this thing too much because I’m afraid that I won’t say it if I do, so here are some quotes I’ve posted to social media in the last  36 hours.

“I’m done with amphetamine you guys, in the pills and the clear. I’m throwing out all my shit. It’s taken a lot to even say this openly, whether it’s been obvious or not. It’s been affecting me too hard again. So it’s time to get off again.”

This is probably a thing that is beyond obvious to people who know me well, and it’s something people who don’t know me too well probably have occasion to suspect.

I do this while pretending that it’s something that it isn’t in my brain so much that I don’t even admit it to myself when I am alone, or doing it. Awareness of what is going on is a thing that the drug steals from you, because it forces awareness to be stuck in little crevices.

So it’s hard to imagine how someone can be using, not aware they are using, and not talking about that they are using. Telling a great many lies about your destructive antisocial patterns becomes a survival skill. And I can’t even believe that I am saying this, but which is why it’s important…

I’ve been sober since October 2nd. This is the usual amount of time I go between binges. Around this time I start to get tired of being tired all the time. I will have slept enough to start doing it all over again. And I have definitely been thinking about it, but more often lately the aspects I’m so sick of are more apparent to me than my lethargy. It takes like a week to stop sleeping all the time, but it takes like a month for your mind to even start to be unaffected by the week of use. And it probably takes longer than that for it to ever really be, if you can even say that’s possible.

This is all I have to say.

Building My First PC From Parts I

It’s time for a new a column! I’ve been hella obsessed with this topic, as you’re going to find out. I’m going to learn how to build my first gaming PC from parts and this is going to be my little column about it. Maybe it will be helpful to people trying to learn and if not, maybe it will be helpful to me trying to learn.

If I had to give a reason, I’d say I’ve never built a computer from parts because I’ve never had the funding for the hardware just lying around to even consider attempting it. I’ve never made the investment into slowly making it happen, with one paycheck that I can barely keep a portion of at a time; also risking an enterprise turn into a potentially expensive failure is a thing I’ve not wanted to do very naturally, with what money I had forcing me pursue other avenues. But like a virgin trying to make it worth doing, I’m going to eventually know what I’m doing and the computer I’m going to have won’t be worth as much as the skills and knowledge about how to do it well.


Part considered but decided against… — GA-AB350-Gaming 3

I picked between these two because… I read about the socket a mobo has that allows it to fit a processor. This socket is important, and in this case is AM4. That socket tells me the types of CPU’s I’ll be able to use, so I set out for socket AM4 boards to facilitate the other part I’ve had to be decided in unison to use as well.

It really all kind of connects as such that, the decision to use any part includes the decision to use every other part. And as you decide which parts you want to use, you adjust and decide again which parts you are going to use based on that decision…. if that makes sense.

I hope that I’m not in over my head. I understand everything I’ve read so far about where I need to begin and this is how I have.

They say that it’s no more difficult than putting together an intricate model, so… I think I can put away a bit of money to buy some parts while spending the time between reading about them and digesting all there is to know before I ground myself and get my hands upon some metal case or something — on tile floor, without cotton socks dragging as I pace.

I think awareness of static electricity and its possible effect on components is the first thing you learn when you open a tower up, which… thankfully, this ain’t my first rodeo entirely, you know. I’m not entirely illiterate. I’ve added in RAM, moved audio and network cards and HDDs from old machines and into new ones. Or rather more often — into new ones to discover the incompatibility issues that different parts often face with new machines. I’ve even reset and replaced a CHMOS battery on a dried motherboard, in an attempt to do anything I could to solve my dysfunctional BIOS problem and prove my machine wasn’t fried.

That was the last desktop that I owned. It was a casual build of a Core 2 Duo, with a GPU that was not intended for any gaming, and a refurbished installation of Windows 7 that someone paired with fairly small hard drive, a minimal pair of RAM cards, and two extra fans in a modestly attractive case; 5.1 audio jacks, firewire support (that I never used, but which was there), an external hard drive port built under the DVD player in its own drive bay — USBs plentifully located on the front and rear; outfitted with an 802.11 wireless attenuate, which I thought was pretty cool at the time…

I think it was 2013 or so when I bought that computer –if I had to wiggle between two years variance– from the guy online who built it and quite thoroughly made it an average machine into nice computer that I loved having and mourned losing. To say the least of even that era, it was a low end machine that I often used to play an older era of games and by the grace of graphics settings made to strip as much as possible, more games that I had ever been able to play on a PC before in my own house, on my own sad little box, which I’ve had many that didn’t do the things that I always wanted and even some that failed to do the things I thought were’n’t very much to ask — like process a window open at the same time as another window.

I remember when broadband Internet was a thing that was replacing dial-up, and people would say, “Damn, you’re on dialup so you can’t really do the thing I’m doing with my broadband cable. ” I remember LAN parties, mostly enjoyed on someone else’s machine, and by the time I had tethered myself to an Ethernet cable I had access to in my home on the regular, it was already possible to wirelessly jump onto networks that were often still unsecured and free to the public –left that way by networking companies, and by techies who weren’t terribly concerned with the security– when only a small minority of people who spent a great deal of their time on a computer with other nerds even cared to bother with having email, before smart phones, when the Internet was on the cusp of changing life for people everywhere and Big Data was only beginning to realize the possibilities of how many people they could train into obedience after s period of what I can only call accurately enough to speak of what it is; a merciless raping in the body and mind, (which is owned, like anything that you say or do; which, their policy on that is: that anything you say or do is by their right to press from you such that it is also owned. And not by you).

Let’s put this into perspective. There was a time when if you wanted to use WordPress on your blog, it was a script that you installed on your server, which you had to administrate and give the functionality to comprehend things like programming language and databases. If you wanted to login securely, you had to CHMOD your files correctly to set permissions. There were not themes to bother with. You designed your site with a text editor and Photoshop; you followed an entirely archaic set of etiquette to express yourself by doing all the work yourself.

And as the technology of the world has changed so much that the way we use it has changed drastically over a short period of time into something else that becomes only more and more available over time, I have slowly been always lagging behind at a leisurely stroll, not even trying to catch up entirely. With all the games I never got to play and all the possibilities otherwise I never had hardware for, there was never a point when the current sensation concerned me enough that the new things I was able to do on my computer did not satisfy my thirst to do things on my computer.

At this point in my writing, I can easily say that I know more about software development, code, operating systems, their administration, and how to securely network with the world cut down to size for me to take a bite of, than of the hardware architecture I’ll scarcely see a glimpse of, whilst tinkering away to maximize performance by manipulating data more so than various cards whose power is only limited by the number of copies I can’t force out from nothing and have digitally at my fingertips — inexpensively paid for, like from the pennies in my endless piggy bank of UTF-8 characters and the syntax to give them everything I want them to do on a list from my keyboard, where I’ll learn everything there is to learn by stealing all there is to steal — in a way that I could never learn everything there was to know about such a thing any other way, without that unlimited access to have everything from the same people I share it back with, to tinker away on a forum, chat, or board somewhere with a power from parts that money can never buy; which, this power is only ever sold to people knowing nothing about solutions to problems but via the answers they upgrade to with a chunk of change so often and seldom otherwise by simple economics.

I’ve learned a small thing or two of economics since then, and while I can only say that a day’s work leaves me if nothing else fortunate enough with my life that I need not steal so much of everything I do that my mother can’t buy me. As an adult, I can pay for a game if I want to, and if I’m dedicated enough, I can put away little bits to piece by piece to get after savings accumulate, ==as ever– …an outdated machine that isn’t even middle tier today. And by the time I’m able to pay for it with the hundreds and thousands of dollars that it takes, there will be tens of thousands more new things that only the most privildeged of all people will ever get to play with easily.

But just you wait. When I’m finished, my new computer will do everything and more that I need. And, when it doesn’t, I’ll build another, and another, and another. I’ll trail behind at first, but just like I eventually got a job and quit running the streets like a little kid, maybe I’ll eventually sell a computer and learn a thing or two about all those toys you grew up with and showed me at your house from the distance of not understanding them and never having the degree of sophisticated machines you can only have if you learn to build them with expensive parts.

And expensive as they are, I’m still looking for a steal.

I made the first step today and I’ve invested $99 in a motherboard, which is a lot of money to spend on a thing that is at the end of the day just a motherboard — a device which can cost that amount and more than than that again still, and enable your build to support a number of things it will never support otherwise.

I would really like to grab up the CPU that I think I’m going with –a decision that inherently pertains to the decision of the motherboard picked– which I have learned from all of last night reading about this.

I actually thought the first thing I would need initially was a case to put my eventually-purchased motherboard in, but I also read that there is a thing called a form factor, which is a very easy way to find out how you are going to fit yuor mobo into the eventually-purchased case, as it were — being the least important and more aesthetic decision really. The case isn’t the first thing to look at, but perhaps the form factor of the motherboard and how that correlates to the case it will fit into is.

“PC cases themselves are often referred to by these size form factors, but the terms really refer to the size of the motherboards they can host. ATX boards measure 12×9.6 inches, MicroATX up to 9.6×9.6 inches (they’re often smaller), and Mini-ITX 6.7 inches square.”

So the first thing I decided was that I Wanted an ATX case, because I gathered that these were typical of the larger motherboards in full tower cased with room for all the fans expansions and things I want to learn to understand and make work.

I then realizes that while the motherboard is the framing of all the things that the PC will be able to possibly do, it is overshadowed by the one thing that it enables centrally to everything else the computer will do. It supports the central processing unit that the computer will have, or rather frankly, it does’t.

So even though the first thing you will need to have is a motherboard, the first thing you will need to decide to go with is the processor. I am fairly certain I know which one I;m going to buy in a pay period or two –or whenever I can hustle together enough extra cheddar and bread, which…

There are a few models I’m not sure of which I’ll go with, but if you’re familiar with the mobo I’ve already bought, then you know I’m going to be going AMD over Intel if nothing else. Or maybe you didn’t, but now you do.

I didn’t know this last week, but I know now that a motherboard and a processor are most likely always chosen together. The type of case desired will match a form factor of motherboard, so a decision about the type of case is also necessary to decide right away. It would seem to me that the decisions range from, large and spacious with opportunities for power to be supported for a price, and cheaper, more limited, in a compacted area that doesn’t support as much variety. This is probably a generalization, but I think it suits a newbie’s understanding probably.

And, yes. That’s what I am … a hardware newb, albeit who is writing an article. And despite writing it, I may say a thing that is not accurate or requires input from you, the reader, who knows a great deal about this hardware game. Or, perhaps, maybe if the reader knows less than I know, maybe it would be best to take anything I say with a variety of other sources, to be certain.

I’m going to read some more things about the processor I think I’m going to buy and possibly make up my mind, or just be more knowledgeable about the different specifications I’m choosing between, and why. In the next entry of this column, I’ll talk about that, and why I chose this processor.

I can truly say that I chose the MCI over the Gigabyte for aesthetic reasons. The specifications seem so similar as to not be incredibly different,, despite being a little unique from one another in ways.

I’m thinking black with red and purple LEDs. But, we’ll get to that…. a bit more later than I wish; just like my processor, which will cost about double what the mobo did.

Why Nothing Matters Necessarily

The truth is, I don’t care about whatever I was writing before. That I didn’t finish it, or the mental state I was in at the time that disappoints me so, to see how alien and replacing of me it can be; I don’t care. I don’t care about this sentence, the last one, or the clause structure of anything.

A lot of people saw my nihilism develop from a truly depressed state. Unlike the unaffiliated, doppelganger infested mind that I see traces of passing by like strangers today and in recent memory (what little there is, and how off and on it can be), there was a far more dissatisfaction with life and existence. It was an extremity of such. Suicide wouldn’t have been enough to solve the problems of the world and it’s suffering to me then. I thought, truly, that the only way to make it right would be if not just everyone and everything died simultaneously in an instant cataclysm, but if a certainty that life itself would not re-emerge somehow in its cycle on another speck of dust with the conditions; that would be the only way. I thought, feeling a deep disgust at the passing of birds overhead in the sky where the sun was gently coming down to a basking wet humidity of sweat and misery. Life itself and all its allergenic effects on me colored my view of how feasting upon itself and propelling itself ever forward, we all persist for the perpetuation of the suffering.

I wondered hypothetically, if I had the switch; if I had the nuclear armaments and in enough quantity, placed equidistant all over the world such that a detonation could eradicate existence even for just life on Earth if not for all eternity, would it not be truly the most noble and good thing if I took the responsibility to make it happen.

I said, “Only if every person dies at the same time, such that the suffering of life is not left on the ones remaining. If only then it would be for the best.”

But I would ask, “Even if it is for the best, and if it is what I want, is it okay that I might decide for everyone what is best for them; to give them my idea of what will be for them. Do the ends (a peaceful oblivion) not justify the means, if the only way to achieve it is to stand in opposition to people who would fight me to the exponential increase in the world’s suffering just to try to stop me. If I had such a power, there would be people who would choose to suffer just for the chance to live.

And for this reason I said, “I would not do it. But it would be for the best if others would accept this.” And in my mind, always with an ideation of suicide, I imagined the only way out I could be okay with. It only worked if everyone died. I couldn’t leave behind suffering like that, in my view of self interest. So I said, “This is a thing I cannot do,” as I often thought of how I should do it.a

My nihilism arose from this but it did not stop there. A lot of things changed, time passed, I became a different, wiser person, and I realized the folly of my feelings.

It was true that there was nothing of concrete value making it all worthwhile to endure, but it was this certainty that I began to define what I called, “the true nihilist;” that is, one who does not despair existentially at all, knowing that there is no reason to.

Yes, there is suffering. I suffer constantly I would say without even being aware of it a majority of the time. This is the thing that people should accept. There is no oblivion and this is a momentary glimmer, to be followed by another having no sense of the one before it some day. All will crumble an d everything will be forgotten, and because of this, there will always be a possibility for things that seem to always be the same, or too awful too endure; maybe changing too fast to keep up with — even the best of times that ever were — are subject to a stability brought about changes innately varied in alignment towards law and order. There is nothing that is so permanently constant that it’s reality diminishes anything otherwise, so there is nothing to despair. It doesn’t matter.

And this is where peace lies. In attachment to things, you are unable to move forward into what will be wrought with or without you. You become a helpless passenger. In fear, you lose sight of the power within you to build your life into what you would have it be, how no circumstance must shape the feelings inside of you, which are your own. There is nothing to blame but yourself if you cannot attain this.

I am no Nietzschean, but this is how I hold the will to power. There is power within you to make life anything you would have it be, and though there will always be suffering washed up in the sad and happy things, it cannot stop you if your will to power remains calmly in control of the most stressful madness that can possibly be endured; that most would crumble and be left to streets, prisons, psych wards… And when left to those things, with discipline, a will to power carries on with no reason to complain and a mind clear of despair.

Otherwise, it would be silly to say that you are a nihilist at all; perhaps, maybe, you are on the path to becoming one. But, this is a path facing madness, one that many likely cannot find their will to power knowing. And, given the nature of things, it is of course possible… that to madness, one day, it will be lost.

But I will never give up on being content in spite of all things. This is why nothing truly matters, and I let go.



It’s a good thing I don’t often write here, that you have likely forgotten this exists at all, similarly to how I do myself.

It’s possible I will relinquish any former design of what I wanted to write here, and it is possible I will occasionally make a return to them. But… right now, what I want to write is going to be more difficult to write than anything I wanted to write a week ago.

It isn’t that I can’t organize it. It is, can I be openly honest about it. And, if I tried to do that, would it be possible for me to know the truth about myself that I cannot understand now.

Making Sense of My Own Ridiculousness

I write this the morning after publishing Making Sense of Skinhead Reggae, part 1; technically, according to the time stamp, 7 hours ago on the listed blog post that I would love to open  up in the editor to fix it — or at the very least, rename it, “Making Sense of My Own Ridiculousness.” But I can’t do that without being a hypocrite, can I?

I suppose it’s possible that there may be a difference in things you edit for different reasons, and that I could potentially maintain my rawness and still fix things that… that there was somehow a good reason to decide to hold back and fix. But, because I cannot distinguish often at times if not always when it is a good and bad time, and as a result have often felt in the end like many things I’ve written were a waste of time… to at least, be taken so seriously by me as a writer. I believe that… this is possibly why I stopped a decade of habitual writing all the time and slowly sank into feeling like it was not worth doing, until the habit was finally gone.

I’ve mentioned this before and how I’m not sure how much this has liberated me or set limits on me. The truth is, it has done both.

The things I have written since I gave up serious writing have been Dadaism in themselves, the sort of thing that I never hesitated to simply shovel on to a Facebook post after that where it can be scrolled over by the attention deficient people of this era who likely didn’t even notice it in the phantasmagoria of scrolling things.

It isn’t so much that it wouldn’t be read that is the issue. It’s the platforms that became suitable for me to write in. I didn’t keep a private journal that I hoped would prepare me for my “works,” which I imagined I was supposed to create to validate my self worth.

What was I if not a writer; the thing I had always been praised for, the thing I had spent so much of my life doing as if it was an important thing I needed to do.

The Dada philosophy I mentioned in Ideas Intersect has certainly taught me how to love myself and be a happy person, coming from the person I used to be who anything but that, and I’m grateful for those lessons. I use them now to be unashamed, bare, and and open about my failures without fixating so much on the importance of what it means to fail or succeed; which in Neon Dada, there is no such thing. I say again, this is a valuable “truth.”

But…I also enjoy writing, and I haven’t done it as often. I don’t think I consciously stopped with these thoughts in mind. In fact I know that I didn’t. But it makes sense to me a lot, especially as I try to write something half serious and discover again the flaws that make me inefficient at times — completely dysfunctional at others.

And there is an example right here in my last post. It doesn’t feel good to attempt to write something you know how to write but have your mental state come out more apparently than what you want to intend. It is very frustrating. It possibly makes me not want to continue things that I start, making it easy to unconsciously forget them maybe the way I do. I know that I am far less excited about what I wanted to write, overthought, and did not write.

The truth is, I feel  thatI could have easily downsized what I wanted to do into something sensible if I hadn’t been imagining less what I wanted to talk about, and more how it needed to be so convincingly thorough that my argument would be complete. It’s as if in contradiction to my own values [the dual aspected deity], because there is no absolute correctness my argument could possibly achieve… Similarly to how there is no state of perfection that the pursuit of perfection will ever attain.

I don’t think the pursuit of improvements in how well you understand a thing and the work you do as a result of that understanding is necessarily a negative thing to think about. But it clearly can interfere with productivity and result in something out of control, or irrational. It can result in… the sense of failure that I’m sure many artists, thinkers, engineers, builders of things, scientists, etc; have often felt no matter what they did or how much they are thought to have achieved by others, or not.

It seems impossible for me to write anything without a personal story, psyche column involved in it, because it’s just too obvious what a nutter I am. I do want to be writing this personal confession diary shit. But the truth is that I have to suck it up and do it, because the only other option is to delete my post, pretend it did not happen, or maybe go back to fixing it and do the same thing all over again.

It’s quite embarrassing, really, that I couldn’t see at the time. This is supposed to be a zine where I can write about something easy and fun to write about, like music, if not among other things.

But especially after I’ve gone through all of these thoughts in the last two postswritten — and even some of the ones from before — I feel like I am no longer comfortable with the idea of not writing because of how I feel about what it reveals about what i can and cannot do.

In the spirit of Dada also, I feel like if I can’t make the thing I intended to make often times, then I have to continue to make the things that I did not intend to make.

…because, no… It’s not important that I write anything, and nothing that I write needs to feel intentionally important in some manner. But what is important is that I feel content with who I am and what I do, and have no need to hide as if there is ugliness or beauty at all anywhere.

I have taken many great steps to be happy and would say that in spite of these feelings I am still happy, but I think the next step is facing the few things left that I am still self conscious about. w

And maybe one day I will be half as precise as I wish I was, but maybe I will not wish that I was something I am not, too. And I think both options are okay.

Making Sense of Skinhead Reggae, part 1

Breaking a two weeks or more-long silence in which this zine unwritten is actually being written again, today’s post will [attempt to] thoroughly discuss the phenomenon of skinhead reggae, how it developed, and what it developed into [but will not be able to finish itself in this single post].

Of course, there will be YouTube links to various track uploads, to color what I’m talking about and explore the many variations of related things that and how they are connected.

If you’ve been following my music column (or just generally the postswritten to this zine thus far), you’ll notice my current interest in a variety of aspects of Jamaican music, dancehall culture, and language; and, from varied time periods, from ska, to rocksteady, roots reggae, and the dancehall music of today, I have written about these eerily similar sound system crazes — all connected, very much similar in ways so much that they are sometimes seen as being indistinguishable (easily described by the word reggae, for example) while also nothing remotely alike in any form.

I’m excited about this post because it inherently involves the story of how and why I have hated skinheads since I was 15 years old, not as someone who is ignorantly only aware of the existence of a skinhead as synonymous with a white nationalist, but as someone who has seen their effect on a subculture I was once very a part of — that is, Bush-Era street punk in South Texas — and resisted the threat of what they represented at what were places I went to and considered my spots to hang out, where the music was a form of street punk I could relate with, and the people were all mostly, more or less like minded enough to have peace; until the resounding and in unison war cry surrounded you.

“Oi!” That’s when you realize they are massive, you are alone, and if you are not aligned with them (and you’re god damned right we fucking weren’t), then you have to resist the pressure that is placed on you to be like them — to transmogrify for the sake of a so-called unity and join in crews they will never admit are very much like gangs. If you will not do this, you are on fragile ice. You can either run or you can fight them, and there is never just one of them. They are massive or they are not at all. If you’re a fifteen year old punk rocker, you keep your head down — or you don’t, you know, because you’re a punk rocker of fifteen years — and you will either run from a beat down or you receive them. You might even decide to engage in violence yourself, because you have a zero tolerance policy for fascism in your scene, and you kill it wherever you see it the same as they would kill you.

I’ve thus far only introduced and outlined the things I need to discuss to illustrate the points I want to make clear and the things I want to connect, acknowledge, and use to hold the conclusion I can finally make about the skinhead phenomenon, which at fifteen years old, not knowing the distant history and how far the skinhead had traveled and how it had molded him, I could never make but finally can. So, I’m going to split this into thee parts as this is quite complex.

On Skinheads, Their Good Taste in Music, and the Folly of their Utter Ignorance
(is that really the title I’m using? Whatever… that’s the title.)

1.) The Spirit of ’69 – This portion will require many of us to pretend that we have never heard of a skinhead and understand how the origins of the culture are quite interesting, seemingly harmless enough, and little known to most people today who associate the word with white nationalism — which for this portion, we’ll have to hold off on talking about to explore skinhead reggae (which I happen to think is actually great music), and how the blending of the Jamaican diaspora with British, cockney people resulted in a seemingly positive racial exchange and a “reggae fever” marked by shaved heads and otherwise very particular, uniform, and sharp dress style.

2.) If the Kids Are United… – Next, I’m going to have to explain how skinhead culture crossed paths with punk rock after 1969 had passed and how neither culture would ever be the same after that, resulting in a list of new genres that come about from an unintentional recipe for hatred and violence laid out when the skinhead and the punk rocker will unfortunately take politics to the streets, and experience a less positive attempt to assimilate together. Also, this will address why skinheads may have been less like-minded with Jamaican diaspora as the 1970’s came closer to the 1980’s.

3.) Post-Skinhead Ignorance – This will be a final conclusion, in which I consolidate my experience with American skinheads as a punk teen in the 1990s/2k into my adulthood, well-read self who happens to currently be pretty into first wave ska music, which… only the skinhead can be said to still feel that way about first wave ska in the same way. In the homeland of ska, ska music is outdated. And I mean, it’s been outdated since before I was born. It’s hardly even referred to as itself by many, because it’s just early reggae that hasn’t for a long time been done without being more reggae than ska (not probably since about… 1969). That said, I will ultimately have to conclude how skinhead culture has always been intrinsically predisposed towards a development into a complete militancy powered by an embrace of ignorance… about everything; and why skinhead culture should not be celebrated just because they understand ska music, (which is amazing, [and much better without skinheads in it.]).

And yes, I have totally just published a postwritten where I outline the post yet unwritten. I know. I’m utterly insane. If I were a professional writer, or if I had the desire to produce myself in the way that one does, I would set this document aside and use it as a rough draft and outline to do the piece, which I will say is big enough to warrant this kind of outlining if not this kind of editorial.

But I don’t do that. I don’t edit or manufacture myself. I don’t enjoy doing it. I don’t want to. Often times the typos you find are ones that I overlooked in the drafting of the document and have become well aware of and have intentionally left them as is.

I suppose I don’t sound like a too stereotypical obsessive or compulsive person, do I? If you’ve read the psyche column at all, you might follow what I mean from there. I sort of do have the capacity to spend my entire life editing a document for no reason, in which no amount of corrections or do-overs will ever produce a thing that doesn’t require further editing or abandonment.

Choosing to leave myself manufactured, raw, as-is, one take to get the shot, whatever happens type of “artist” has never been an easy decision to make. I wanted at one time to leave a masterpiece on the world. I no longer do. I want to leave myself, flawed as I am, content and happy to die with my imperfections.

So I made a typo. Shrug. It most likely doesn’t matter, and so… if I’ve lost you and you aren’t following this foreword into the next posts that will come. So be it. I will gladly have you read, or listen, or watch; I’m not afraid to show myself. But… I’m not willing to destroy the beauty of the world’s ugly things left as they are, so that you lot can be the celebrated artist that is all you really care about anyway isn’t it?

That’s okay. Social acceptance and approval is a natural human thing to seek out to some degree if you are a healthy enough person, I should think. But… it is of little interest to me in terms of my non-art, which I will continue to create in a long winded way for the sake of itself — shamelessly.

It’s kind of getting to the point where all the columns (categories) that I’m using seem to intersect, even if they focus on one topic more than the others. Part of me would like to redesign the organization, stop using the categories the same way, but…

Logic tells me there is no need for that.

Otherwise, I have an outline of what I’m going to write. I have several albums in mind to share as I talk about various things. I want to continue writing this zine, even if it takes me a long time to come back to it sometimes.

If I save this as a draft, it will become lost forever. I will forget that it was important maybe, or that it was ever a thing I planned to do. The organization of it will prevent it from ever being published at all.

Maybe taking my time between entries isn’t so bad. Maybe it will be more manageable for me to actually read them again, and have it as such that of the many points I wish to make, the fewest of them will in the end be unmade entirely. My early LiveJournal blogs of daily postings suffered from an overflow of  things that were never worth organization. There was less management of any thought that I had, which is why I was never able to write anything but of my sadness and my glory like a teenager with a diary.

I don’t want to write for a sense of daily therapy. I want to say specific things in a highly unconventional way. I want to make my points, and I want to leave them at least in the open to be unmade.

I’m going to make a point to get back to this project in the next few days — not weeks or more.

I will ever have to apologize for the fact that… if you are interested in me at all, you will always have to wait for me to come back I’m afraid.

Organized Chaos

So, because I am not able to contain myself to a single topic on a single blog, probably the same way I am a so-far failed author of very long books that all have disorganized manuscripts that can’t contain themselves to a single story, I have to organize myself. A blog is definitely much easier to sort than a novel would be, and… I’ve put down tens of thousands of words to dozens of manuscripts that I wrote in moments of inspiration that could not take the time to be organized.

Well, I didn’t always know this and I didn’t just learn it either, but it’s necessary to be organized with every step bigger that you get. Whatever it is, it starts with a loss of efficiency and speed, which are (in some things) also virtues to me. I’m fast at things that I do because I like to reorganize and breaks things down into their smallest parts so that I can make them run more efficiently if I can. If you were reading this post about giving categories to my writing, you might see how this can in itself get a little bit out of order.

I’m like conflicting aspects of the same deity. One is determined to reorganize everything not to a state of perfection, but to the state of searching for
perfection. The other brings discord to everything that it touches and revels in the possibilities of disorder. The first patiently cleans up for his well-being after the second, (and the impossibilities of disorder), who has no idea that anyone is even there in the first place to have to do this. Both discover amidst the turmoil of resisting one another how to 1) Discipline yourself. 2) enjoy himself.

You might rush to call this god afflicted with multiple personalities. I think it manifests inside me as affective type moods, and not like dissociative “personalities” — I don’t know. I think if I had some affective type pychosis from very manic states, followed by depression that wasn’t sad (just sleepy for a good spell and necessary) — which I don’t think it’s fair to call it psychosis just if involves hallucinations. I’m clearly not an expert and anything I know is a thing I read somewhere. But I think you have to believe the hallucinations are real sometimes if not always, and you have to think that things make sense that don’t. You would have no kind of internal or external logic.

Logic is the thing required if you are mad, I think. You can’t have faith in things that seem like they are true for illogical reasons. Or you can obviously, but it’s not a good mixture I wouldn’t think. That’s why the auditory hallucinations you often hear described are the voices of god and other random shit that logic doesn’t have any time for. So, whereas I might be like, “I saw in the flames what blah bity blah,” I am just like, “Hrm, that’s very annoying now (definitely not interesting anymore, to experience but, logically, I can’t really assume that if I hear the voice of god that that means there is a voice of god. Or whatever it is. It makes you take a back step. It takes bravery and and patience sometimes even to walk out into the world surrounded by what things are possibly not making your life easier to do functionally. And if you do for a moment experience a thing you are scared to believe or whatever, with a mind for logic and not for faith, you are more likely I would have to guess able to live functional life. I do my best. Luckily, this affective type thing means it comes and goes with the degrees of affective shifting. Any form of path to psychosis I might experience has only ever been the result of a given situation, that would not always remain to torment me in more mentally stable times.

I mean literally stable — as in neither down for the count depression or over the top manic force of nature — something in the middle.

If anything, the use of tags will allow me to continue points where I left them more easily. Or I don’t know. I’m not even certain that my organizations are always organized. I wouldn’t describe me as OCD, but I am capable of understanding what that might be like. To be so obsessed with organization that you are actually less efficient. The thought of this disgusts and terrifies me, so I cannot allow that possibility to be ignored without rift making sure that it will never get too out of hand (again).

I am ending up getting very personal on here, but there is a lot of personal things I’m going to try to avoid. but it’s impossible to have the psyche category without being quite personal enough, which is mainly going to include the amateur case study of my own self. It’s not intended to be thorough, however. This blog is a slightly too public “publication” for some details.

I can be a piece of work, but I’ve managed to be stronger than I once was and I think I deal with it, surprisingly as it seems to with time get worse, much better.