Max Head(space)

For those that know me, there is a lot of crazy crap inside my head. Little bits of information that no one else even thinks about. Television trivia, music trivia, chemical compounds, programming, recipes, cooking techniques, art styles, photographic composition, industrial design tenets: a ridiculous amount of crap. Among that odd information is something much more important that I still don't full grasp that way others do: people.

I spend a lot of time watching, analyzing, over-analyzing, and experimenting. Patterned responses, deliberate behavior and attitude changes, all in the interest of gauging individuals and fine-tuning my reactions to people as a whole. All of this takes up space in here. Some people take up more space than others. The analyses run deeper and longer than for other. My friends are a key part of that and they have, over the years, provided me with invaluable information and shaped me as a person.

The downside, however, is when these analyses don't reach an end point. When questions are left unanswered. Things start to go south in the worst kind of way, like the supposed "five stages of grief". This complex series of emotions began some time ago with the truth and through a series of mistakes and miscommunications ended recently with acceptance and a realization.

I accept that I have a lot that need to work on. A lot that don't understand about people because I have spent so much time generally avoiding them (mostly because I find people frustrating and unpredictable). More importantly, I realized that the head-space that I dedicate to individuals in not a shared. It is my own alone. I'd like to fix that sometime. I'd like to know that someone thinks about me as much as I think about them. It's going to take some time, patience, and finesse, but I'll get there eventually. I think I finally see something in people that I like and I like to really understand what that is, even if I have to do it alone.

To those of you paying any sort of attention:

Sorry for the mess. I'll see you around.

If you ever get bored, there is a space inside my head that I am happy to share with you.


Man on Fire

It was a clear winter morning. A slight breeze danced across the plaza, sending a shiver down his spine. He made his way across the granite pavers and settled near the center of the square. He set down his and began to unpack. Boxes of salt. A thermos. A cassette deck. Each one arranged meticulously around him.

As he began, no one noticed the solitary man pouring salt on the ground, slowly forming the words to a single message. People gathered as he finished the first line, which was laid out in neat block script two feet high.


He worked silently, ignoring the cajoling of the growing crowd. He smiled at their whispered questions and quickened his pace, knowing that he would not have much time before the authorities arrived and asked questions of their own.

As he finished the first line, the wind had picked up and blurred the words, pushing the granules of salt across the plaza, as if to spread the message.

Before he began the next line, he produced a tape from his jacket, loaded the cassette deck, and pressed the "play" button. The speakers strained to broadcast the message, which rang out in a clear, near-monotone, unsettling the crowd.

I've asked you all here today to experience this 'performance' because we as humans have lost what we understand as our connection to each other. We claim that the internet and technology have made us more connected. That twenty-four hour news should keep us perpetually informed. That everything should be hyper-connected in modern society. We reap the benefits of these tools, but at what cost? This hyper-connectivity has created behaviors that promote isolation and insulation. Whole families that bask in the blue glow of their smartphones instead of talking. People who avoid speaking face-to-face out fear for 'real' reality.

What are we if not social animals? We define ourselves through body language and intonation filled with subtlety and implied understanding. Instead, we choose to collapse all of what that is into zeroes and ones, strings of 140 characters or less, digitally-altered profiles images, memes, and hashtags. We choose to reject reality, creating false selves to share with others who do the same. We put ourselves under perpetual scrutiny, allowing every intimate aspect of our lives be shared with corporations, the government, and even each other. For what purpose? To be better consumers, citizens, and companions? To squeeze every last drop of mystery our of our connection to each other?

That is not what human connectivity is.

The cassette deck squealed to a stop as he finished the second line. Fumbling to get it started again, he basked in the irony of being filmed by dozens of camera phones and the hypocrisy of using that very medium to spread his message.


He started the final line as the cassette deck sputtered back to life, pacing himself to the words.

It is sharing real, actual time with real, actual physical, emotional individuals. It is learning about others as you learn about yourself. It is mystery and frustration and joy. It is knowing that others have you in their hearts and minds. It is sharing all that you know and care about with everyone around you: positive, negative, or fantastical. It is freedom of oppression in all of its forms and the passion to fight that oppression for those who cannot. It is food on your table. It is the community around you, as imperfect as it might be.

 So take this moment to turn off your phones and look at the people around you and recognize the connection that you all share by being here today. Know that I will be a part of your lives for as long as you live.

What do I get out of this? What great artistic impression or social change do I expect? Nothing. The only satisfaction that get is knowing deep in the recesses of my mind that, for the first time in my life, that I... that WE are not alone.

 As the last words sputtered out of the cassette deck, he had finished the final line and drawn a wide circle around himself. He emptied his pockets in a neat line at the edge of the circle, laying out his keys, wallet, and pocket change.

He sat cross-legged in the center of the circle and opened his thermos. Pouring the contents over his head, he smiled at the crowd, opened his lighter, and set himself ablaze. Members of the crowd rushed in, but the combination of fuel and accelerants in his clothes consumed him with terrifying speed.

The heat scorched and cracked the stone beneath him and that mark became the punctuation of his final message.



Raising the Dead (Words)

Something goes here I guess. More later. Maybe not. It has been years now, but I need to write something somewhere about things. Something for people to shuffle through and ignore. To over-analyze and pick apart. Where beginnings end endings begin. Don't know why. Just need to get something down.


3:57 AM (A Breathing Exercise)

This is a concept that I have been mulling over for a little while, but haven't bothered putting it down in any serious form. It involves cadence and word choice, but avoiding any particular emotional content and focusing solely on how an individual's breathing affects the aforementioned choices. The only real problem is that in text, this is nearly impossible to illustrate because every reads with a specific speed and rhythm. There are adjustments and controls that a skill writer can put in place, but otherwise I am not sure how to approach this. Oh well.


LP0 On Fire (You Should Stop Now)

Oi, you still awake?

Yeah, why do you care?

I have decided to try to be less of a dick.

Right. Last I checked hell has not frozen over and you still manage to come around here and mock me at every opportunity.

I'm just lookin' out fer ya! You sit around most days starin' at the ceiling, waitin' for the fuckin' world to end. It's a fuckin' tragedy! I come around here and there you are like a pile of old clothes! You used to actually do shit! Remember that?

Don't even get me started! The only thing you ever bring up is that New Years party!

That's the best example I can think of!

And I hate you for it. I know that I used to do things, but I am just so under-motivated these days. I just don't care any more.

News flash, genius! Whose fault is that? Yours! Get off your ass and make something of your self. I'm not gonna be around all the time tryin' to kick your lazy ass into gear. Push past this "poor little me" shit and get some balls and do something! Fucking anything! Sort goddamn paper clips for all I care! Just get the fuck out!

I knew you were going to do this... You feign politeness and all you have to say is the same macho psychiatry that everyone else decides is "what I need". I am sick and tired of being pushed around and told what to do! I just...just...

What? You gonna cry now? Don't even start that, 'cause you know that shit doesn't fly with me! It might work with your ma, but I'll crack you upside the head if you do!

No! I am not going to let you provoke me like you always do! I have something to say and I am going to say it. The way I want to say it.

All right then, smartass, go ahead and say it!

Shut up. Just shut up... I just want my life back. The time before you started getting in my face. When I was glad to wake up in the morning, look at myself in the mirror and know this is going to be a good day. The days before the stress-induced insomnia, panic attacks, and nervous stutter.

I know that you remember those days, because, as you might say, we were "a fuckin' team". We worked together and succeeded at everything that we put our minds to. It was fantastic.

What I have been trying to figure out is what changed. That's why I have sitting around staring at the ceiling or whatever other awkward simile you want to use to describe my day-to-day behavior.

So, with that said you can either help me or leave. It is as simple as that. I know that I have told you to leave before, but this time I am not angry. I just need to know where we stand.

Damn. I... I don't know what to say. I gotta think about this. You always were a fuckin' headcase.

Just figure it out. I am tired of fighting.



Well it is 4:18 AM and I can't sleep. The Boondocks are playing on my TV and The Kleptones' "The Underground Hand That Buttoned The Widow" is sauntering its way into my brain. Hooray for iTunes shuffle mode.

I spend most my nights like this. Trying to write something interesting or build a track, but instead I fill my head with the work of others. Dick, Baudrillard, Nietzsche, McGruder, Vonnegut, Nilsson, MacFadden, Davis, Menuck, Reznor. Purveyors of literary, philosophical, and musical reality. Crammed into the recesses of my brain.

Nine Inch Nails' "Coronata Radiata" on loop. Hooray for iTunes loop option.

The problem is. The problem is that when I turn all of these things off, it is louder than it was before. My brain speaks in bursts and echoes. It stumbles upon itself and builds to a cacophony. I can't sleep.

Exhaustion comes with the dawn. Sleep comes but is marred by empty dreams that wrack my limbs with spasms. When I wake, my hands are stiff, forearms sore, and legs ache. I smell of cold sweat and nightmares.

Moby's "At Least We Tried" on shuffle. Hooray for iTunes shuffle mode.

It's 4:51 AM and I don't want to sleep.


Rollback Semantics

Operations can fail, but failed operations are guaranteed to have no side effects so all data retain original values.

Let's start with a little story.

A story? What the fuck?

Did I ask you? No. Now shut the hell up and listen.

Oh. Now you have balls. Fine. Get on with it...


He stared at the sky every night trying to get back to his grandmother's farm in upstate New York. There was a certain peace that came with these thoughts, but was tempered with time and distance.

Sitting in his room in the city, there was no night sky and this ate at him.


Damn it, what the hell did I say! I am sick and tired of you interrupting and questioning me! No! No more! If you don't have anything important to say, then shut up and sit there! I let you push me around waay too much! We are supposed to work together and all you do is piss me the hell off! Get the FUCK out!

Jeezus! Sorry!

No! Not this time! You are not welcome here anymore!