Excuse me?
Excuse me-
Can I just?
Can I just say this? I'm having a really weird time of things. I would say 'bad', but it's not--really. It's not. It's just...it's really weird. I can be okay with weird. Weird's not bad. They're different.
I'm here at home, where I feel like a powerless lump. I mean--sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I can still accomplish plenty--I just have a hard time not judging the quantifiable bullshit that stacks up. What is it about being home? About being an actor out of work that makes me feel like 'the curses through your teeth'?
My energy is devoid and lacking. My self-consciousness is in full-fucking-force. I am so entrenched in self-aware patterns that I feel like jumping into a lake and sinking to the bottom so I can build a nice flat down there. This stagnating miasma of perceived judgment is making me into a big, dumb, frightened child.
BUH.
It's off my chest. Kinda. I mean...you know me. You know I get like this. Every time you don't speak your mind, you're killing yourself. You are actually dying. When you hold back, that's one less modicum of self that doesn't exist because you've decided it doesn't belong.
I'm not made for this. I realize that. I GET it. But...but what NOW?
Time to create the world I want to live in.
Th...that's the secret. Create it. Fuck em if they can't take a joke.
I've spent an extremely long time railing against the 'way things are' but begrudgingly accepting them in the end as inevitabilities.
Fuck that shit. I can't abide it any longer.
Good riddance to bad bullshit.
Dak
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
I AM THE DECEMBERISTS.
If only. Here's another cover. This time its "Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect."
Eventually I'll upload something original/in my range.
Eventually I'll upload something original/in my range.
Optional Courses
I'm beginning to look at this break between shows as less of an "OH MY GOD, I AM AN UNCREATIVE GODDAMN LUMP." and more of a chance to take those optional classes I didn't have time for when I had no time. Classes like-
BLOGGING 101 with Dr. Internet
Course Overview: Learn to post frequently on ALL the blogs you manage. Develop the ability to wring halfway decent writing out of your brain even when you don't think you can. Realize that you ALWAYS have something to say--even when you don't know who you're speaking to.
BIKE REPAIR 102 with Dr. Diamondback
Course Overview: Continue knowledge of bike repair and maintenance. Do not give up when a problem shows itself. Fix the shit yourself.
SURVIVING WITHOUT TECHNOLOGY (MacGuyvering Technology) 10 with Dr. HP
Course Overview: Jerry-rig a way for your broken laptop to still be useful. Learn that old LCD monitors just burn out on occasion. Laugh at yourself.
ALGEBRA 2
SOCIALIZING 205 with Dr. Friends
Course Overview: Focusing on awareness around your friends. See them for their potential and try to help them realize it. Learn to do the same with strangers. Slowly build the world you want to be a part of.
RELATIONSHIPS 210 with Dr. Heartstring
Course Overview: Get realistic about what you are looking for relationship-wise. Learn to not force anything just because you 'might as well' or because it 'seems like it would work'.
I'm also taking 'Financial Planning', 'Doctor Who and You', 'Intermediate Beginner Self-Taught Guitar' and an hour-a-day exercise thing. All requirements for my LIFE major. Luckily, they don't boot you if you take too many credits.
Dak
BLOGGING 101 with Dr. Internet
Course Overview: Learn to post frequently on ALL the blogs you manage. Develop the ability to wring halfway decent writing out of your brain even when you don't think you can. Realize that you ALWAYS have something to say--even when you don't know who you're speaking to.
BIKE REPAIR 102 with Dr. Diamondback
Course Overview: Continue knowledge of bike repair and maintenance. Do not give up when a problem shows itself. Fix the shit yourself.
SURVIVING WITHOUT TECHNOLOGY (MacGuyvering Technology) 10 with Dr. HP
Course Overview: Jerry-rig a way for your broken laptop to still be useful. Learn that old LCD monitors just burn out on occasion. Laugh at yourself.
ALGEBRA 2
SOCIALIZING 205 with Dr. Friends
Course Overview: Focusing on awareness around your friends. See them for their potential and try to help them realize it. Learn to do the same with strangers. Slowly build the world you want to be a part of.
RELATIONSHIPS 210 with Dr. Heartstring
Course Overview: Get realistic about what you are looking for relationship-wise. Learn to not force anything just because you 'might as well' or because it 'seems like it would work'.
I'm also taking 'Financial Planning', 'Doctor Who and You', 'Intermediate Beginner Self-Taught Guitar' and an hour-a-day exercise thing. All requirements for my LIFE major. Luckily, they don't boot you if you take too many credits.
Dak
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Another Song!
Or rather, a RE-RECORDING of a song I did. It's Billy Liar again! Now with more....acousticness. And multitracking.
I recorded it with my internal laptop mic, so the quality isn't great, but here it be anyway!
EDIT: Re-re-mastered. I quieted down that weird low harmony in the chorus, because I didn't like it all that much--but it still had sentimental value.
DAK
I recorded it with my internal laptop mic, so the quality isn't great, but here it be anyway!
EDIT: Re-re-mastered. I quieted down that weird low harmony in the chorus, because I didn't like it all that much--but it still had sentimental value.
DAK
Friday, May 21, 2010
Shakespearebomb
Or 'Shakesbomb' for short.
I would love to remount some of the Shakespeare scenes I performed (and had the pleasure of watching) in large public areas--in a sort of flash mob fashion. How awesome would it be to fake a funeral procession through 3rd Street headed by a wailing mourner--only to have it interrupted by a limping hunchback who shouts "Stay you that bear the corse and set it down!"
The biggest difficulty for me in putting this together is finding time to REHEARSE with whoever wants to do these scenes, and finding a way to announce them, and then bookend them. The scenes themselves will be SUUUPER fun, and a great chance to explore performing Shakespeare in a 'natural' setting. Groundlings n' all. Hell, why not record it and use it for the next AntiApathy?
Thus far I'm looking at--
Snapplecakes? SNAPPLECAKES. I'm re-reading Richard the third right now, just to get a better sense of it. MAN how awesome would it be to hock a casket through Santa Monica and perform that effing scene? Yeah, I know.
Dak
I would love to remount some of the Shakespeare scenes I performed (and had the pleasure of watching) in large public areas--in a sort of flash mob fashion. How awesome would it be to fake a funeral procession through 3rd Street headed by a wailing mourner--only to have it interrupted by a limping hunchback who shouts "Stay you that bear the corse and set it down!"
The biggest difficulty for me in putting this together is finding time to REHEARSE with whoever wants to do these scenes, and finding a way to announce them, and then bookend them. The scenes themselves will be SUUUPER fun, and a great chance to explore performing Shakespeare in a 'natural' setting. Groundlings n' all. Hell, why not record it and use it for the next AntiApathy?
Thus far I'm looking at--
- Richard III Act 1 Scene 2 (As mentioned)
- Much Ado About Nothing Act 4 Scene 1 "Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?"
- The Tempest Act 3 Scene 1 "There be some sports are painful, and their labor Delight in them sets off..."
- Romeo and Juliet Act 2 Scene 2 (The motherflipping BALCONY SCENE, NYUGGAAZ)
- Measure for Measure Act 3 Scene 1 "Death be a fearful thing/And shamed life a hateful."
Snapplecakes? SNAPPLECAKES. I'm re-reading Richard the third right now, just to get a better sense of it. MAN how awesome would it be to hock a casket through Santa Monica and perform that effing scene? Yeah, I know.
Dak
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Embroiled
Love is a left-brain/right-brain thing--for instance:
Does it belong, in its most beautiful and spiritual successes, to us all?
Are its boundaries merely obtuse and arbitrary? Does love always win because love is the goal? Are jealousies and pangs simply counter-intuitive to love's beautiful seamless course?
Or does love belong?
Is it a thing to be fought for, tooth and nail, until it's dragged--unharmed--from a scorched and bloody battlefield? Are the scars and broken bones, the gallows humor of "It almost didn't work out after I got drunk and made out with so-and-so.." the things that make it stronger? Can you simply double and redouble your assault against a country already embroiled in battle in order to turn the tide in your favor?
Must I screw on that plumed helmet, hoist my sword, and go drag Helen back by the hair? (I hear she's into that)
Whatever the case, it'll take quite the Eurydice before I enter the underworld.
Whatever the case, it'll take quite the Eurydice before I enter the underworld.
Dak
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Backstories
Albert Edward Brown, my dad, kidnapped me when I was five (or was it four?) My brother too. Took us both.
This isn't something I usually talk about, though I've gotten a bit more comfortable mentioning it to certain people. It's actually a significant part of who I am...or what I refer to as "Dakotah Brown backstory volume 1". That said, I realize that it's starting to really affect me again and I feel like I need to deal with it. Dredge it all back up. Try to get to the bottom of this strange train of negativity and anxiety. Lately, I haven't given that event the weight it most certainly deserves.
I forget the details more and more as I get older, but what I'll try to piece together what I remember--
My family was living in Santa Cruz at the time-on Seaside Avenue, house number 144. A teeny little place with a teeny little yard. Quiant, but we loved it. As a matter of fact, it was on the nicer end of the places we'd lived in during that time, which included a motel, several relatives' houses, and a dorm room at UCSC (we'd make microwavable pancakes in the common room in the mornings and play nintendo in the afternoon.) I remember planting apple seeds in the back yard with my brother. We were all hope.
I was prescient in those days. I can't tell when the switch happened, or why--or even if, but what it comes down to is that one night I had a nightmare that my brother and I were in the back of our old Volkswagon bug, driving away from the house with my father chasing the car and my mom running after it.
A few months later it happened.
From there on out it gets hazy. I don't have the greatest memory anyway--as those of you who know me are aware. You generally have to tell me things a few times in order for it to click. I never considered that it could've been a defense mechanism of some kind. Well, anyhow-
We traveled across the country. We drove and flew from the east coast to the west coast. For eight months, we were on the run. Literally, my father would make us duck our heads down when we went through tollbooths in case the attendant recognized us from the wanted posters our mother had been putting up anywhere she could. We avoided police officers, zipped through airport gates, and a handful of times we hid in the closet at our aunt's house when the maid would come to clean up--just to be sure we wouldn't be spotted. Several mornings were spent watching my father hurriedly throw together something for us to eat before we headed out on the interstate at 4-something in the morning just so we could keep moving.
Some scattered memories from back then:
"Can I call Mom?" I ask, late one night. My brother is in the living room--we were in the middle of playing Mario 3.
"Sure, sure Kokanutty-buddy."
"Okay."
I go back. We beat Giant Land. I come ask again.
"When can I call Mom?"
"Later, man. Later."
Later.
My brother and I beat the game and went to bed. I was never allowed to call.
Getting beaten for dropping a plate. Feeling confused and powerless.
My brother raising a fuss in the bathtub. My father thrust a finger at his chest to emphasize a point, accidentally cutting my brother with his fingernail.
Playing with a switchblade I found in the back of my father's car. Cutting my finger. Getting frantic at the sight of all the blood.
Being in court. Knowing that something serious is going to happen. My dad, solemn, on one side of the room. I'm terrified that I'd never see him again. That our mother would 'take us away'. Our mother, who Da told us was 'The Devil'. Literally. "Your mother is Beelzebub. She is the devil." Even when our mother got custody of us again, he would send letters to that effect. He was righteous for a few years. Tried to sway us with slanderous letters, phone calls, Game Genie.
"Who are we running away from?"
"The police." Says Da.
"What are they gonna to do if they get us?"
"They're gonna' take you away from me."
Standing in the back area of an apartment complex in Baltimore. My brother, seven, gets assaulted by a thirteen-year-old, James Johnson. I cry. I'm four. I'm scared and furious. My father comes out to 'save us'. Chases the kid down and loses him in a church. Drives around the block until he finds him again--gets out of the car and forces an apology.
I don't like talking about this. I don't. I really did seal it off for a reason. The more I think about it, the more furious I become. Did I mention that the last communication I've had from my father was a postcard with a question mark on it? Roughly ten years ago, I received it. My father. More harm than good. More harm than good.
That's what I tell myself.
I've been waiting for twenty years for him to come to his senses. For him to do SOMETHING. ANYTHING. The SLIGHTEST FUCKING GESTURE of...I dunno, repentance? Apology? He doesn't just have the excuse of NOT BEING AROUND. That shit doesn't fly anymore.
He left my family poor and my brother and I broken. We missed a school year, and our mother missed our birthdays. We missed her on our birthdays.
Good deal for him, though. Eight years of fathering, than PEACE. BYE! I'm off to slander your mom for dating a white guy, then go marry a white woman! Also remember that your mom is evil and I'm always right! Enjoy your anxiety! Try to feel inadequate around everyone you meet!
I've spent the better part of my life looking for some kind of model, some figure to follow so I don't doom myself to those habits and patterns. In the end, I've had to take bits and pieces from people I look up to...the rest I make up as I go along. As of now, I definitely do NOT want to have children...but if the parenting bug ever hits me--I'm going to make sure I am an exponentially better father than I had. HAD being the operative.
Yeah....this was angry. To tell you the truth though, it's mostly just sad. The whole experience left me feeling wounded and forgotten, but I'm so used to the wound its like a security blanket now. I clutch it tightly when I'm alone. I have for two decades.
It's not something I'll get over quickly. I haven't, as you can see.
But-
But...maybe I can start the slow process of accepting it. Accepting this is part of who I am. Not shutting my eyes to the fact that my father's gone. Accepting, even, that he won't make the effort to be part of my life again...and while I won't consider it optimal...it is okay. Yes, my world feels broken sometimes...but that's not 'how life is'. That's just residue from a world that broke ages ago. Things aren't the same as they were before. Life is new. It can be. I can be.
I can't spend the rest of my life looking for approval from a ghost. I have a model right here in the mirror.
Rock on.
Love,
Dakotah Edward Brown
This isn't something I usually talk about, though I've gotten a bit more comfortable mentioning it to certain people. It's actually a significant part of who I am...or what I refer to as "Dakotah Brown backstory volume 1". That said, I realize that it's starting to really affect me again and I feel like I need to deal with it. Dredge it all back up. Try to get to the bottom of this strange train of negativity and anxiety. Lately, I haven't given that event the weight it most certainly deserves.
I forget the details more and more as I get older, but what I'll try to piece together what I remember--
My family was living in Santa Cruz at the time-on Seaside Avenue, house number 144. A teeny little place with a teeny little yard. Quiant, but we loved it. As a matter of fact, it was on the nicer end of the places we'd lived in during that time, which included a motel, several relatives' houses, and a dorm room at UCSC (we'd make microwavable pancakes in the common room in the mornings and play nintendo in the afternoon.) I remember planting apple seeds in the back yard with my brother. We were all hope.
I was prescient in those days. I can't tell when the switch happened, or why--or even if, but what it comes down to is that one night I had a nightmare that my brother and I were in the back of our old Volkswagon bug, driving away from the house with my father chasing the car and my mom running after it.
A few months later it happened.
From there on out it gets hazy. I don't have the greatest memory anyway--as those of you who know me are aware. You generally have to tell me things a few times in order for it to click. I never considered that it could've been a defense mechanism of some kind. Well, anyhow-
We traveled across the country. We drove and flew from the east coast to the west coast. For eight months, we were on the run. Literally, my father would make us duck our heads down when we went through tollbooths in case the attendant recognized us from the wanted posters our mother had been putting up anywhere she could. We avoided police officers, zipped through airport gates, and a handful of times we hid in the closet at our aunt's house when the maid would come to clean up--just to be sure we wouldn't be spotted. Several mornings were spent watching my father hurriedly throw together something for us to eat before we headed out on the interstate at 4-something in the morning just so we could keep moving.
Some scattered memories from back then:
"Can I call Mom?" I ask, late one night. My brother is in the living room--we were in the middle of playing Mario 3.
"Sure, sure Kokanutty-buddy."
"Okay."
I go back. We beat Giant Land. I come ask again.
"When can I call Mom?"
"Later, man. Later."
Later.
My brother and I beat the game and went to bed. I was never allowed to call.
Getting beaten for dropping a plate. Feeling confused and powerless.
My brother raising a fuss in the bathtub. My father thrust a finger at his chest to emphasize a point, accidentally cutting my brother with his fingernail.
Playing with a switchblade I found in the back of my father's car. Cutting my finger. Getting frantic at the sight of all the blood.
Being in court. Knowing that something serious is going to happen. My dad, solemn, on one side of the room. I'm terrified that I'd never see him again. That our mother would 'take us away'. Our mother, who Da told us was 'The Devil'. Literally. "Your mother is Beelzebub. She is the devil." Even when our mother got custody of us again, he would send letters to that effect. He was righteous for a few years. Tried to sway us with slanderous letters, phone calls, Game Genie.
"Who are we running away from?"
"The police." Says Da.
"What are they gonna to do if they get us?"
"They're gonna' take you away from me."
Standing in the back area of an apartment complex in Baltimore. My brother, seven, gets assaulted by a thirteen-year-old, James Johnson. I cry. I'm four. I'm scared and furious. My father comes out to 'save us'. Chases the kid down and loses him in a church. Drives around the block until he finds him again--gets out of the car and forces an apology.
I don't like talking about this. I don't. I really did seal it off for a reason. The more I think about it, the more furious I become. Did I mention that the last communication I've had from my father was a postcard with a question mark on it? Roughly ten years ago, I received it. My father. More harm than good. More harm than good.
That's what I tell myself.
I've been waiting for twenty years for him to come to his senses. For him to do SOMETHING. ANYTHING. The SLIGHTEST FUCKING GESTURE of...I dunno, repentance? Apology? He doesn't just have the excuse of NOT BEING AROUND. That shit doesn't fly anymore.
He left my family poor and my brother and I broken. We missed a school year, and our mother missed our birthdays. We missed her on our birthdays.
Good deal for him, though. Eight years of fathering, than PEACE. BYE! I'm off to slander your mom for dating a white guy, then go marry a white woman! Also remember that your mom is evil and I'm always right! Enjoy your anxiety! Try to feel inadequate around everyone you meet!
I've spent the better part of my life looking for some kind of model, some figure to follow so I don't doom myself to those habits and patterns. In the end, I've had to take bits and pieces from people I look up to...the rest I make up as I go along. As of now, I definitely do NOT want to have children...but if the parenting bug ever hits me--I'm going to make sure I am an exponentially better father than I had. HAD being the operative.
Yeah....this was angry. To tell you the truth though, it's mostly just sad. The whole experience left me feeling wounded and forgotten, but I'm so used to the wound its like a security blanket now. I clutch it tightly when I'm alone. I have for two decades.
It's not something I'll get over quickly. I haven't, as you can see.
But-
But...maybe I can start the slow process of accepting it. Accepting this is part of who I am. Not shutting my eyes to the fact that my father's gone. Accepting, even, that he won't make the effort to be part of my life again...and while I won't consider it optimal...it is okay. Yes, my world feels broken sometimes...but that's not 'how life is'. That's just residue from a world that broke ages ago. Things aren't the same as they were before. Life is new. It can be. I can be.
I can't spend the rest of my life looking for approval from a ghost. I have a model right here in the mirror.
Rock on.
Love,
Dakotah Edward Brown
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Increased Workplace Productivity
Guys, guys--
No...seriously...guys...
I've been slacking on my blogs. Just...slackin' ALL over the place. I've decided to update Silly is the New Sexy more frequently, and I'll kick up Doo Doo Thursdays and AntiApathy up as well. From here on out, I'll update this guy twice a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays) and the others once a week (Wednesday and Friday respectively.)
Now that THAT'S over, why don't I show you what I know you came to see.
Marvel at the illustrious Dick Slang.
This may, in fact, be the most uncomfortable YouTube clip I've ever seen. Let's dissect, shall we?
Firstly, evidently it's not gay if you yell 'BAP!'
Also--there is a moment in each gentleman's...oh...let's call it their 'Freestyle Section' in which they shake their junk around for an extended, awkward, silent period of time.
Here's my favorite guy. He clearly has aspirations beyond mere 'Dick Slanging'. He begins to let loose a little and starts to go all 'Backup Dancer for Beyonce' for a second...then becomes sort of uncomfortably embarrassed when he realizes his friends are all watching, and ends his solo prematurely.
Conclusion--I hope they do Bar Mitsvahs.
Dak
No...seriously...guys...
I've been slacking on my blogs. Just...slackin' ALL over the place. I've decided to update Silly is the New Sexy more frequently, and I'll kick up Doo Doo Thursdays and AntiApathy up as well. From here on out, I'll update this guy twice a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays) and the others once a week (Wednesday and Friday respectively.)
Now that THAT'S over, why don't I show you what I know you came to see.
Marvel at the illustrious Dick Slang.
This may, in fact, be the most uncomfortable YouTube clip I've ever seen. Let's dissect, shall we?
Firstly, evidently it's not gay if you yell 'BAP!'
Also--there is a moment in each gentleman's...oh...let's call it their 'Freestyle Section' in which they shake their junk around for an extended, awkward, silent period of time.
Here's my favorite guy. He clearly has aspirations beyond mere 'Dick Slanging'. He begins to let loose a little and starts to go all 'Backup Dancer for Beyonce' for a second...then becomes sort of uncomfortably embarrassed when he realizes his friends are all watching, and ends his solo prematurely.
Conclusion--I hope they do Bar Mitsvahs.
Dak
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Ol' Ball N Chain
BALL AND CHANG? (If you get it, you are a nerd. Welcome. This is a safe space.)
So a friend of mine wrote this regarding her newfound singletude: "No sad face, just happy faces here. Empowered faces. Finaly free faces."
Well...
Well well well...
She is absolutely right, too. Now why did this little comment strike me so much? Well, dear reader, its because it asks a question of something I have been taking for granted for the longest time. For damn near 20 years, I have been spending a ton of time and a ton of energy coddling my relationships with people, romantic and otherwise. I took this super-single thing to be some character assessment. I used it to grab some good ol' "Woe is me" energy. Some "Boy, if only I had a sweetheart, I could etc etc etc". But know what? Fuck that! Forget it!
And hell, nothing against relationships and people in relationships and people in FANTASTIC relationships--I will however no longer be envious of y'all.
My primary reason for being here is me. And I don't mean that selfishly. I simply hadn't had the desire to be very me-centered for a while.
I've got a horrible habit of hanging out with people and just sort of shutting down. Being marginally clever and interesting, but letting them take the reins of the interaction instead of feeling the complete freedom of doing or saying whatever the fuck comes to mind at the time...it's because I was so focused on assuming what they wanted from me, and then trying to accomplish that. Sit down, you're rockin' the boat and all that shit.
I'm not going to worry about being 'liked' anymore. Like I tell the kids at the Othello Q&A sessions, "Don't try to be a 'good actor'. Be a hard worker."
It's been a long run, but the show's over. I've gotta' toss this costume and go run naked through the rain. It's been a while.
So a friend of mine wrote this regarding her newfound singletude: "No sad face, just happy faces here. Empowered faces. Finaly free faces."
Well...
Well well well...
She is absolutely right, too. Now why did this little comment strike me so much? Well, dear reader, its because it asks a question of something I have been taking for granted for the longest time. For damn near 20 years, I have been spending a ton of time and a ton of energy coddling my relationships with people, romantic and otherwise. I took this super-single thing to be some character assessment. I used it to grab some good ol' "Woe is me" energy. Some "Boy, if only I had a sweetheart, I could etc etc etc". But know what? Fuck that! Forget it!
And hell, nothing against relationships and people in relationships and people in FANTASTIC relationships--I will however no longer be envious of y'all.
My primary reason for being here is me. And I don't mean that selfishly. I simply hadn't had the desire to be very me-centered for a while.
I've got a horrible habit of hanging out with people and just sort of shutting down. Being marginally clever and interesting, but letting them take the reins of the interaction instead of feeling the complete freedom of doing or saying whatever the fuck comes to mind at the time...it's because I was so focused on assuming what they wanted from me, and then trying to accomplish that. Sit down, you're rockin' the boat and all that shit.
I'm not going to worry about being 'liked' anymore. Like I tell the kids at the Othello Q&A sessions, "Don't try to be a 'good actor'. Be a hard worker."
It's been a long run, but the show's over. I've gotta' toss this costume and go run naked through the rain. It's been a while.
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