(for the first time ever Broken Trumpet is writing a blog, don't make fun of him cause SHe's retarded, have a little respect)
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First thing: I'm from a distant land known as OK Computer. Welcome!
OK Computer is a factual place where antibiotics=money and you slept every night in a bed of it. Usually the antibiotics were cut with hormones artisan-designed to give you low self-esteem. There was also a gang of professional killers called THE ARMY who protected OK Computer from such enemies as . . .
Here is where it gets fucking weird . . . OK Computer is actually invisible.
Nobody has ever seen it. I mean sure, the ground is solid and everything but the substance of the place is rather untenable. And speaking of invisible substances I might digress to honor the blogs terms of use - specifically, what little lonely me is allowed to say without infringing upon Googlish's 'acceptable content' policy. Lets read a list of possible offenses:
1. No Child Pornography - pretty agreeable
2. No Hate Speech - defined as 'inciting hate or violence against a group based on race, ethnicity, gender, religion, sexuality etc.' OK, so I'll make sure to avoid inciting acts of brutal violence against pedophile priests in this blog. (While we're at it, lets make sure all those rapists out there don't feel like anybody's out to hurt their feelings.)
3. Crude Content - what does that look like? shit here's a vague description: 'close-up images of gunshot wounds w/o commentary would be a violation of this policy' - OK, got it!
The list goes on but fuck it.
Sorry for the tone btw, you'd be unpleasant and cynical too if you were a broken trumpet like I am. I don't really finish what I start anyways. But anyways! back to little lonely me and my story:
I don't know when it started. I was born into it. The landscape has always been a little gray. Like a ghost factory. Coated in a weird puke yellow gas. (Nightmares when you wake, wisdom while you wait). This is all just a very elaborate way of saying this place is fucking mediocre! Me - being the trumpet that I am - I was born to sing! From the fucking heart! With love, vomit, regret AND careless abandon! Am I wrong for this?
You know what? I think that my story speaks for itself by now. Done. The End. Or is it . . .
How about this: Broken Trumpet could be used as metaphor, or archetype or Marketype ;) or perhaps we could all just forget the whole thing altogether once and for all period.
I assume that some of us more indie-blog-prone people are in search of something that we're able to find in temporary release through music and art. So many of us placate a rote sense of existence which finds its crux in spectatorship mediums. Who by now hasn't listened to their stoner friends make weirdo future tribal sounds using Animal Collection-derived beats? (btw, I'm a fan of this shit too, its practically my bread and butter at this point). What does this release truly consist of? (I'm serious, who wants to contribute a chapter to the story of Broken Trumpet?)
Actually, all of this just sounds like complaining and bitching. Everybody should just go have phun. I was gonna say a bunch of other things but fuck it. I don't really finish what I start anyways . . .
OH YEAH!
So this Blog is partially to help promote things that I do. It's also here so I can talk to a hypothetical audience and make money on google ads. I'm a musician (ew gross), and I'm in 3 Projects. They R:
Ununi (http://www.myspace.com/ununi)
Streight Angular (http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?t1ettonvwnx)
Stereoplegic (coming soon . . . )
[My bandmate Andrew Mello has his own blog and we're both trying to make money so you should totally check it out - http://www.andrewmello.blogspot.com]
STREIGHT ANGULAR ON VIDEOOO TAKEN BY A GUY WHO WORKS FOR THE BOSTON PHOENIX, that's right beyotch's
I have a solo album out that I recorded over 3 1/2 years ago. It honestly sucks but you can download it here (http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=b83948a484ec250707258ee67c679e4a0a5f18f164783f6df7e866bfb1230ce0). It's called 'Songs You Can Seaweed To', and I truly believe that it's complete fucking garbage. Oh well. I'm struggling almost violently with myself to get my next one out soon. The songs are pretty much written & conceived minus some stupidly difficult arrangement work thatz I havez to doz for it. I really hate talking about myself for this long though. So I'll cya guys or something.
