On My Writing and Composing
To a friend no explanation is necessary.
To an enemy no explanation will suffice.
I think that my early training in music at home, at three years old was one of the only ways I was allowed self expression.
It was inevitable that I would have some talent or gift in this area and that I would use it to express myself while being oppressed and abused regularly and routinely.
I was actively listening to Pop, Rock, Jazz, R&B, Blues, Country & Western and Classical music.
Although my mother used to attempt to sing opera badly, she didn’t play it at home often even though I’m pretty sure she had a bit of it in her extensive record collection.
I recall Mario Lanza in her collection.
I didn’t like opera until in 2005 when I heard a female, German opera singer who I’m still trying to locate.
While I was having my voice trained by her at three years old (I showed interest in singing by mimicking Dot while she sang and cleaned around the apt.
She thought it was cute and began my training.
I suppose she was flattered that at least one of her children was interested in something she had some knowledge of.
Although Dot had no formal training in music herself she knew that it was an advantage to read and write music.
She also would express her jealousy for people who were fortunate enough to receive formal training by saying that playing by ear was better than playing written music.
She would sight people like Lucky Peterson, a child prodigy who could play the piano having had no formal training whatsoever.
She herself would try and acquire that ability by sitting at Vikki’s piano for endless drunken sessions banging away with the hope that she’d somehow be given a talent she could have simply worked for given the time she took doing it in the way that didn’t work.
It was another example of her silly, cultural marxist, communist, magical thinking that if one person could master something that anyone could.
Which is clearly not true no matter how many idiots want to believe it.
Now my mother would also say “dig that guitar, piano or drums”
Which would make listening to music a more complete experience.
In the 1st grade, I recall what was my best music class in public school.
We would listen to Peter and the Wolf and were supposed to identify the various classical instruments which were were pictured all across the upper wall of our classroom.
We sang a lot of songs and listened to pop recordings also.
In that same elementary school,
we had lots of music and singing of patriotic songs during assemblies and plays.
During inclement weather, we would have the lyrics projected onto the huge screen that was rolled down from the stage in the auditorium while the music was piped into the speakers.
We were to pass the time by singing mostly patriotic songs.
In the forth grade I was actually a Color Guard for a time, until the some other kids became jealous and I was relieved of my duties.
I was surrounded by music and remember viewing odd films during assembly while I was in the 1st grade.
The Jiminy Cricket and Smoky Bear films seemed appropriate to me, but the Sonny and Cher film and the film about the human heart which was narrated all while showing a human heart beating furiously on a table of all things made me want to pass out and I found it highly disturbing.
In the mid ’70’s, my mother used to pretend to want to learn how to play an instrument and Vikki and I tried in vain to teach her our instruments.
We realized she was just being a bitch and trying to waste our time.
She tried this ploy again on me in the ’80’s, but that was the last time I would indulge her and her sickening psychopathic nonsense.
I actually wrote “Ain’t that Way At All” for her to sing and earn money to repay me the money she had stolen from me with interest.
I had originally written country and western lyrics then changed them keeping the original music.
She was obstinate.
I got the idea when I heard a woman singing a jazz song on the radio and I thought it was her.
I asked her if she had recorded a song because I heard this woman on the radio who sounded just like her.
She told me she hadn’t and I asked her if she would be interested in recording and that I’d written a song specifically for her to sing.
She, of course being a lazy bitch declined.
I think I’m gifted in writing poetry and music because I have to force myself to stop writing.
I never have what’s referred to as writer’s block.
I think writer’s block doesn’t exist.
I think it’s an excuse made by people who lack genuine talent.
I also have this other gift of being able to think of several separate things simultaneously.
There’s a word in the dictionary for this ability, I don’t recall it, but I think it starts with the letter p.
I compose music and poetry easily.
When I’m inspired all it takes for me to begin is a word, a sentence, or just an idea which I easily complete at what others would consider breakneck speed.
I literally have to force myself to stop writing and composing.
The same applies to my short stories and movie scripts.
My music varies from rock, pop, jazz, country & western, reggae and gospel, so far.
I’ve considered composing classical music, but I think so highly of the many gifted composers that I was fortunate enough to have listened to that I think it would be sacrilege to attempt to emulate them.
Here’s how what might be described as my process goes.
For instance: In 1978 I was residing at 42 Burton St., Hartford, Ct. I as inspired to write a poem about the beautiful tree that was in the front yard.
It was oddly prophetic because I later had what might have been orchestrated by Vikki or Lorraine because they could have easily read my poem and orchestrated what I’d written in it in a park on Sigourney St., Hartford, Ct. which involved a tree and a German Shepherd.
In the ’80’s I was inspired to write the song “I Wanna Love” because I saw a tree that was cut down to it’s stump and I was disturbed by it.
In the ’90’s while I was considering human regeneration when no one thought it was possible.
Incidentally, the scientists have it all wrong because they always approach these delicate matters from a purely selfish point of view with the focus on greed and recognition as opposed to actually helping the world and it’s people.
I won’t tell them the right way to go about it because they are a nasty bunch of self important creatures.
I was thinking a lot about a man I admire greatly, Sir Isaac Newton.
I’m glad he was recognized while he was alive because I think it’s bogus to pretend that people are only recognized for their talents and gifts after they’re dead.
I think it’s a deliberate rip off of the artists or scientists (Galileo, Edgar Allen Poe, etc.).
I think he was a generous man who was amiable and wise enough to work on his alchemy in secret because the world was inhospitable to ideas such as that.
I wanted to read his notes only to discover that only credentialed (most likely faked) people had access to his notes which were under lock and key.
I cracked his mystery without reading those notes and I’ll never tell.
I’ll never tell how to know the unknowable because these are Biblical principles that this evil world rejects, therefore they have no right to them.
For those who could understand my thought processes, kudos to you.
For those who couldn’t get past the first few sentences of this or who tried to finish only to have your heads explode, “ha ha ha.”
You are actually too dumb to know just how dumb you really are!