Seriously One of the Coolest Things Ever

I went out last night with some friends, who took me to this place:

Basically, you pay a suggested $5 to lie down in this room while tons of pounding, permeating, crashing, caressing, and choppy frequencies are blared from four amplifiers in each corner. It sounds fucking annoying at first, and trust me, I am skeptical of pieces of art that are fucking annoying, and yet pass for art – but damn – this was really cool.

The multiple frequencies gradually change and melt into one another, allowing you to hear the fabric of sounds clash with each other, producing lots of rhythmic ideas that start out clear and identifiable, begin to pulse faster, and then finally pulse so quickly that the initial rhythms eventually subside into a new wave of frequencies.

I was stoned out of my goddamn mind when I went into the room, and as is typical for anybody who has ever smoked before, I felt I had hundreds of brilliant and concise ideas/clarities of logic in maybe 20 minutes. Although, drugs make you think and do funny things.

The funny thing was, the length of time I could focus on each particular “brilliant” idea was very limited, and my mind would gradually shift to a new idea – in parallel with the rate of change of the frequencies being blared. Almost like the frequencies were forcibly shifting my brain pattens. Even if I would try to hold on to a thought, I would lose it. I wish I had a pen and paper in there.

Awesome experience. I don’t like getting high, but a scenario like the Dreamhouse is PERFECT for that. I want to bring some sweet/cute girls next time.

The Hardest Things to Find in New York City are a Place to Live and a Job to Pay for It

Apartment hunting in New York City when you’re broke as you were in high school can be atrociously difficult and time consuming. Everyone is busy and late to meet and it takes forever to get everyone on the same page. Especially the brokers. Going through brokers that charge fees is ultimately “easier” – if your definition of “easier” involves getting it up the ass.

Getting a good deal is tough if you can’t afford much, but need a fair amount of space to live. You literally have to take the first thing that comes along that fits the bill relatively well, otherwise some asshole will come in and take it within the hour.

Brooklyn is weird. It is strangely desolate yet populated, the buildings look ratty, and there is a general uncleanliness about it. This is not like the situation I had growing up in various rich neighborhoods full of rich and often snobby white people. What happened to the life?

On the train ride over to where me and my two roommates are going to probably end up moving, I got a view of a large portion of Brooklyn. I thought about all the people living here with ridiculous dreams involving their art, doing pretty much the same things we’re trying to do, only at different stages in their lives. Have they gotten anywhere? Maybe that’s not the point. Who the fuck knows.

Every once in a while I have to repeatedly isolate the things I enjoy doing. Frankly, everyone should do this – eschew your “realistic” responsibilities and allow yourself to think freely. What. Do. I. Like. Doing?

Forget about what will make money or what looks good or whatever your parents think. Throw all that shit away. If you like jerking off and reading books, that’s awesome. Set up your life so you can do those things as much as possible.

You can do that even in New York City, only your minimum level of livable income is still a fair amount of fucking money.