I’m getting insecure that I’m gonna end up writing about music too much, and even worse, somehow make comments about music in posts where it makes no sense for it to be there, other than the fact that the author is annoyingly more vocal than the average consumer. This idea of my self-consciousness towards how I choose to express my interests, makes me wonder about how individually, we’re incredibly pressured to answer our calling & find our place in the universe. It’s never a non-focus center of gravity in anyone’s life. I urge myself to find a person that can not only traverse through the atoms without firing any existential neurons. But wouldn’t that be a paradox? If there were such a human who is completely detached from the definition of fulfillment, wouldn’t that essentially encapsulate their purpose? I’m listening to a double single by Bailey Baum, Simple Feelings. Track one is less than three minutes of this young girl giving in to the cosmic pleasures of a heavenly relationship. It’s a sweet song with cute lines. The follow up is a record where she puts up a wall against her lover-now-enemy.
“you said you love me, I said I noticed”
The capability of throwing together only two songs, where the first is all rose petals & wearing your favorite outfit, and the second is a venomous break up track makes me absolutely full of jealousy. If someone were to clear 100% of life, leaving nothing not experienced, I contemplate whether that leaves you at the pinnacle of fulfillment or rather at the point of the circle you started at. Is doing nothing and doing everything virtually the same thing? Is the denominator for pleasure not the existence of something you sacrificed in order to achieve something else? Something you chose to remove the value from in order to raise the worth of another? Isn’t valuing everything the same amount just the same as valuing nothing at all? I kind of understand now this is supposed to be a metaphor for the battle between what I imagine is my ultimate fantasy of pleasure and my slight willingness to end my life. I continue to attempt to put both on the same pedestal.
“call me when you wake up, I had a dream about you last night
where are we going? I love not knowing”
This is Bailey Baum’s sixth and seventh song released to the public, she produces charming pop songs. I’ve begun to really question why I’ve recently trended towards female vocalists. My leading assumption is because I’m listening to fundamentally a perspective that will never fit my feet. Reflexively I try to go against my own arguments & ideals, in honor of that ultimate fantasy mentioned earlier. However, the areas that are locked away from me are fucking bullshit. I can easily tell what these perspectives are about, but I can’t genuinely use them in my arsenal. I’m so lucky music was invented so I can just leave it at, “it’s art and I’m praising it.” Why this opening argument is probably false is because I should’ve gone through this way earlier in my music-consuming career. My first 3 years were easily 80-20 in favor of the boys. Why that counter-argument is probably false is because I’ve only started deeply expanding into the pop & indie genres the past 3 years, stacking underneath hip-hop, an incredibly male dominated space. I hate to say these female song writers are “alien” or ” exotic” or “fresh” or “curious” or “different,” but it’s definitely the offensive truth. They’ve inspired the birth of a generation of raw viewpoints in my mind. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to differentiate between viewpoints and the viewpoints OF viewpoints. In the end I’m not really sure if it matters anyway.
I Hate The Real Me 