I can’t believe it’s five years today since my Daddy died. The time seems both too long and too short. I feel like too much time has passed and his presence is fading from this world, which feels horribly unfair.
I also feel it’s too little time and I still feel raw in my loss. It’s all too soon, too recent and I will get over it better and deal with my grief but what do you expect after a couple of months? Five years?
I miss him every day. I think about him every day. I have so much I want to tell him and show him, so many interesting geeky facts and ridiculous gadgets and silly stories and terrible jokes. There’s no-one else in my life I can share all that with, now.
If I could, I’d make a documentary about his extraordinary life. When I think of all he’d done by the time he was forty, it makes me wish I had his drive and ability. I certainly have some of his anger at injustice and I’m very glad of that. His values were deeply, passionately socialist, unlike most of his peers who were your classic Tory doctors. How anyone can work in the NHS and yet also support the party most seeking to destroy it was a puzzle for us both.
I don’t know what to do tonight. I feel unsettled. I used to love watching films with him, whether at home or in the cinema. I remember watching loads of Spaghetti Westerns with him when I was a little kid, he definitely helped foster that lifetime love.
I want to hug him and squeeze him till he grumbles for me to let go. And then not let go.
I just fell asleep and had the weirdest micro-dream…
I was watching the Presonus Dude do some mixing thing on YouTube when I fell asleep and my brain kept listening and built a whole dream around it.
DREAM: I’m in a version of my studio but it’s huge. This dude who looks vaguely Jake Busey in a threatening manner is stalking around my studio, moving keyboards around roughly and pulling out cables that are audio live. This causes realistic clicks and bangs and very unrealistic actual small explosions and arcing cascades of sparks.
All the time, he’s giving a running commentary on how to record / mix vocals and keeps singing at me, “Look how farrrrr we’veeee commmmeeee!” and then tweaks another bit of my gear and sings it again. It’s like he’s tuning the studio for his own personal use!
I’m following him around, trying to grab things off him and then I stop him and start shouting that I DON’T NEED VOCAL PRODUCTION LESSONS and I know how to setup a mic, whereupon he just starts running round faster and HE’S CHANGING THE EQ CURVE ON MY BLOODY GENELECS by flicking the DIP switches.
I grab his hands and I’m shouting in his face, all the time he’s looking at me, singing, “LOOK HOW FAR WE’VE COME!!!” and then I wake up.
I was sooo angry he was messing up my studio and simultaneously insulting my vocal production skills.
This is the joy of being old and, in particular, of being an old artist.
During this lockdown, I’ve started streaming music production sessions (twitch.tv/bzangy) and have had some wonderful interactions with musicians 25, 30 years younger than me.
They’re at the very start of finding their own voices (sometimes literally) and I’ve been doing this a long time now. I know who I am artistically and how I want to say things even if I’m always searching for new ways to connect and improve my art.
All it takes is some support, a few kind words to really help a young artist. They may not have a supportive peer group, they may not have a supportive family.
That’s why I think it’s important that artists always try to pass their experience on to those coming up. For me, I want to open musicians / producers up to different ways of thinking about sound design, about composition.
EVERYTHING is out there, it’s a wonderful universe of creative possibilities
For the optically minded out there, this is how bad my eyes are:
Right Sph: -8.00 Cyl: -2.75 Axis: 178
Left Sph: -8.25 Cyl: -3.50 Axis: 179
Near Right: +1.50 Left: +1.50
Aided VA Right Dist: 6/5 Near: N4
Left Dist: 6/5 Near: N4
Sooo, it’s good that at least I can see colours well. That might help me, post-apocalypse when I’ve fucked my glasses Burgess Meredith-style as long as the edge of the cliff is a *slightly* different red to the waiting chasm.
I was trying to post a nude pic to one of my sideblogs on here and WHOOPS, posted it to my Facebook instead. (I’ve been tired, leave me alone.)
So, facebook has put me in horny jail and I am not allowed to post anything for another nine hours yet. I feel soo… nonplussed? I don’t feel chastised as much as I’ve got a severe frowning from an elderly nun.
I’d post the hugely offensive image on my primary blog but we all know what being horny on main gets you. I’ve only just got out of Tumblr titty prison and I don’t want to go back to my cone of shame avatar again.