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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Wednesday, March 31   >>


Diatribes on radio music and the state of musicians really bother me; not because they're directionless, but because most Top 40 songs have qualities we all love in melodic music, no matter what venue we hear it in, no matter how independent from Pop it may try to be.

But, gotta say, all contemporary R&B is fucking aw-ful. Chris Brown was an offense to me before he slaughtered Rihanna.


I didn't disappear. I just stopped caring for those who don't care about me anymore.


How does a racist joke begin?

*Looks around for minorities*

Seriously, how does a racist joke begin?



Ahh, music-making. Back to square one.

Like, I know I'm difficult to work with--I mean, what's so wrong with asking 110% in recorded performances and expected preparedness?--but, fuck, I didn't know I was this much of a pariah.

The moment you compromise, you've already failed.