Flags

I've recently been having some conversations with a friend of mine in which I've realized - or rather, had confirmed to me - what a huge reflection of my personal narrative my music is, and this has inspired me to organize the newer songs I've been working on into some kind of Platonistic ideal of an album, again, as I did with Handheld (be careful with that link, by the way... it's kind of embarrassing writing). The album - more like EP, because it wouldn't be much longer than half an hour - is called Flags. I came up with the name a good six months ago much the same way I wrote half the songs: totally on a whim, without thinking about it at all, just because it felt right, without realizing that it turned out the way it did with good reason. Flags are simple symbols: protest, reclamation, ownership, identity, power, surrender, pride. They're defiant and sure, but they're not static, like a sign or a label. They tend to change over time. They're a snapshot. They mean something, but they have lots of room for interpretation. They aren't much more than symbols: you've got tons of room to work within whatever "boundaries" they create, but it's easy to take down the flag and hoist up a new set of loose boundaries to work in. A lot of the stuff behind these songs is my reflection on shifts and changes in life, on controversies, on things that are new or daring or things that ought not be touched. It's all the times I've tried to hoist up flags in new territory to test out the ground. It's been a much more exploratory album than Handheld. I used to envision that Handheld's story might continue in my next album, three or four years ago when I was coming up with the Handheld concept. The only way I can imagine that being possible is if that little girl ran away to become some kind of seafaring pirate and explored the seven seas, or some dramatic crap like that.

These are the songs in the album.

1) Mist (2:00)

My mind was completely blank while I was writing this. I wrote it in the first week of November 2012 while in this kind of dazed, depressed state, not quite sure what to do with my life. I'd just come out of an amazing week and then woke up on Sunday morning without the ability to go to church, and all the food in the dining halls was gross that day, and I had to do laundry, and the internet was impossibly slow, and there was a weird social dynamic (the successor of which made its way into Regret) that I had no idea what to think about, which put me in this complete state of emptiness. I felt as though I'd been ejected straight from a rollercoaster into outer space. I suppose that's more or less how it came out.

[Instrumental]

2) Trajectory (4:30)

I sang this song as a direct prayer while in a state of slight delirium during my faith crisis in Spring 2011. I think it's relatively self-explanatory, since it was direct communication, and not poetry.

God, all power, all truth

You've brought me here with you

God, all power, all truth

You've brought me here with you

I know my purpose is your life

But you've never made all that much sense to me

How do I use what you have shown me

To learn and live without calamity?

Where, now, do I point this trajectory?

Here I wait for you

Just want to know your identity

Here I wait for you in faith

Here I stand for you

Just want to know your personality 

Here I wait to see your face

God, I'm tired, bring me through

I want nothing more than you

My commitment is to your truth

Take and shoot my trajectory

Your end has governed me from the start

Even those nights I've spent screaming at your face

But the light always breaks through

And sends me spinning streamline back to you

I want nothing more than faith

This is all for you

All this sweat and blood and tears and misery

I'd give all my comfort for your embrace

Hear me, all for you

All this pain and insecurity

Where now, where now

Where now, oh God, where now points my trajectory?

God, all power, all truth

You've brought me here with you

3) Raccoons (2:00)

I wrote this song in 9th grade. It never fit on Handheld. I thought it did fit on this album, though, because it's about how ludicrous the popculture overextension of the idea "pray without ceasing" can be. It's a very silly song. It's one of the few I've ever written intentionally. I remember telling a few friends that I really wanted to write a song about raccoons sometime. And then I wrote this.

Driving along: Look! I see something furry running 'cross the street

Slam the breaks, but that crunch just gave birds their dinner treat

Oops, too late. Oh, poor thing, it's squished pancake flat

Blood and guts... Got me thinking

I'm not that different

That shadow mask never did me much good

All I can see is that bleeding, bruised, bent, broken

Girl hanging out with the possums

Lying dead, beside the road

Next day, I drive past, it's rotting, picked apart by crows

Bones sticking out and blood running all over the road until it froze

Close my eyes, saying sorry - I'd caused such a mess

But with a screech and a crash, I roll, thinking

I'm not that different

Next time I know I will make sure my eyes stay open when they should

All I can see is the bleeding, bruised, bent broken

Girl sprawled by chickens and possums

Lying dead beside the road

4) This Is Me (3:30)

This is the first "rock" song I ever wrote. I was in 7th grade, so don't judge my immaturity. I decided to bring back the song because it's pretty well written and I really value the angst I was going through during this time, now. I've redeemed it as part of my story, if you will. It's about God giving me perspective and hope and comfort through our move from Issaquah, leaving my tree, coming to a new school where I felt trapped and lifeless.... Oh, and then the verse "Standing next to..." is about Chapel. That's one of the big reasons I like this song: it shows a lot of personal growth when it's juxtaposed against some of the other, more recent songs in this album.

Into the light

To me it seemed invisible darkness

Get into skirt and vest and I turned

Just to roll back over again

To fall once more asleep

I looked up

The sky was spinning around

Blink back the tears as the leaves hit the ground

What's so wrong, is this thing truly me?

Why can't I forget?

Then you said

This is me, not who you were, but have become in me

This is me, not what you want, but what I can see

This is me, come on, wake up and roll up your sleeves

This is me

Standing next to friends, or maybe they're foes

No will to think, no more will to grow

It's so crowded, yet it's so damn cold

Are you really here, like you said?

This is me, not who you were, but have become in me

This is me, not what you want, but what I can see

This is me, come on, wake up and roll up your sleeves

Kicked to the corner, I cry out

Why am I here, what's this about?

Why all this rain, why all these years weeping both blood and tears?

Just wondering

This is me, not who you were, but have become in me

This is me, not what you want, but what I can see

This is me, come on, wake up and roll up your sleeves

This is me

5) Dirt (1:00)

This was very similar to Mist. It just kind of got stuck in my head and I had to get it out. It, Mist, and HCl are exclusively GarageBand creations. This one was more intentional and cerebral than Mist, although less so than HCl. It was written in early October 2012.

[Instrumental]

6) Conversation (3:50)

I wrote this song around this time, when my frustration about LGBT issues at school and in my personal life caved in on me and it seemed almost impossible to deal with because it was just so freaking impossible to get anyone interested. It seemed a crucial, pivotal issue to me, but no one seemed to realize it was even marginally important, despite all my talk about it, all my effort to start the conversation. I was angry. This had a lot of very pointed content, so I'll intersperse commentary as I go.

Just a little conversation

Just a little conversation

What do you do with these blank eyes asking questions

Do you answer?

And what do you do with these people starved for info

Do you spew?

And just get blank eyes in return, mouths either shut or speaking concern

To your apparent utter lack of discernment

This verse was my reaction to everyone telling me that despite my obviously-sufficient ability to lead a very basic discussion about perspectives on LGBT issues in the church, and what it means to be LGBT, and how we ought to treat gay people, I wouldn't be able to do it because people would hear about it and think the school was "pro-gay" or because I wouldn't be capable of leading something that would create a safe environment for kids to think about something as complex as sexuality - because I'm not a "weathered male," and therefore wouldn't create a strong enough social presence for kids not to just freak out, or something. I was upset that I felt that I was doing everything I had ever been taught to do, on the simplest of levels, and being blatantly and repeatedly shot down by everyone, as if it were the most ridiculous, idiotic of ideas to ever bring up.

Should you start a conversation?

Just a little conversation

Now you have talked and the world knows, half and half, you're on its side

Good thing it's just half, 'cause the world's both always right and always wrong

We all face suspicion from both sides of the equation

It's easy to confuse the persecuted with the persecutors of good

I coped with a lot of the stress of having no success in my endeavors to foster openness and discussion and community by watching endless amounts of It Gets Better videos. Their main site has a pledge you can sign to always stand up for LGBT equality blah blah blah, and I felt that I simply couldn't commit, as desperately as I wanted to, because I knew that tact required me to constantly shut my mouth when heteronormative or otherwise LGBT exclusive things were said. I felt very torn: I was stuck in a culture war where one side said we shouldn't conform to culture and the other agreed that culture needed to change.

Oh, what I'd do for conversation

Just a little conversation

Should I ask for remission

Or kneel down and grovel, pleading with the world to care?

Should you start a conversation?

Just a little conversation

What does one do when one's elders question, dispute?

What do you do with divine calls always ringing, dilute?

So's the repute of the bright side - yeah, it's on the light side of the loot

But we love it, so we deal with the mental crisis insued

First line: A piece of uncomfortable drama happened in my life such that all kind of middle-aged people - parents, friends' parents, teachers, faculty, staff - were talking about me and my orientation and I don't even know what, and I received a lot of criticism, whether overt or in uncomfortable silence. I had no idea whether to go with the traditional wisdom - "respect your elders" - or with the more radical wisdom - Jesus' call to "drop everything and follow me."

Second line: During this time, at my lowest point, I opened up to a good friend of mine about my call to spread awareness about LGBT issues and foster an open, loving environment for LGBT kids in schools, and they responded by calling me "blasphemous," because I had no reason to presume that this was God's call for me. Needless to say, I was wounded.

Third line: I was very disillusioned with the church, with Christianity, with conservatism, with the entire lot of it, but I was committed to it, so I figured I'd "deal with the mental crisis" that came as a result of my (seemingly-irrational) desire to continue associating with the church.

But what I'd do for conversation

Just a little conversation

Should I ask for remission

Or kneel down and grovel, pleading with the world to care?

Should you start a conversation?

Just a little conversation

7) HCl (1:30)

This was from September of 2011. Honestly, this whole series of little song snippets, themes, more than anything (HCl, then Dirt, then Mist) was very much inspired by Nick's music. I always thought this one sounded a little too much like a theme song because it was so short, though.

[Instrumental]

8) Regret (3:00)

This is my newest song. I only finished writing it yesterday. There's an instrumental portion of it that was originally separate from the rest, because it was another instrumental prayer, much like 10:52 (for those of you who know it). But unlike 10:52, I couldn't quite contain it... it just sort of oozed out in a bombastic half-hour chunk, and I only found a way to fit it into a song when I combined it with the apostrophic poem that was Regret. The tune and the lyrics were all stuck in my head when I woke up from a dream one morning, once again this weird conglomeration of thoughts that randomly compacted themselves into slightly esoteric poetry I didn't quite understand until after I'd written it.

The first verse is about the idea that regret is, in and of itself, a regrettable activity, and that regretting regret is a futile and self-contradictory idea. If regret is a mistake and you're opposed to the concept of regret, then you wouldn't be able to regret it... If that makes any sense at all. It functions as a philosophical type of invocation, I guess.

The second verse is about my frustration that it seems to take more and more effort to accept others' views as you find more reasons to believe what you yourself do. It was largely my mourning that I've been overreacting to the presence of people around me that actually agree with me (about LGBT crap). I'm very torn between the increasing strength of my increasing conviction that what I believe actually corresponds to everyday reality and my great respect for a substantial number of very rational, lovely friends I have that disagree.

The third verse is pretty self-explanatory. I really like it ending where it does, because it's unresolved - the V chord - and is resolved at the beginning of Eden, which is basically the answer to my concluding question: that "holiness" is the edenic landscape we've now made wasteland in our many epicfail attempts to bite the carrot.

Regret, 

My mistakes have been lavished upon me with grace

Your deceit is replete 

With such ludicrous calls to defeat you

When your lies become truth

Or at least a reflection of friends' abience

Their reductionist claims 

Idiotically framed as confusion and closedness by me

Regret, 

you hold my shortcomings, every one, right in my face

Lead me on with your carrot to holiness

Why won't you wait?

9) Eden (3:00)

I posted this on the blog a few months ago. This is what I said:

"This is a particularly philosophically-inclined song I wrote about the paradoxical tension that exists between the fall and redemption. There's this interesting idea that we both fell and are redeemed as we seek truth, as we eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Some would argue that the fallenness and redemption come about for different reasons, but it's still a tricky thought. What does it mean to live with the freedom to sin while simultaneously in relationship with an omnipotent and omnibenevolent God? 
I'm not trying to make an argument, I'm not trying to resolve some conflict or make a point. This is me grappling with the ideas."

Cling to the bomb, because I believe in miracles
Step on the mine, because we will be saved
When did we exchange our innocence for specious, modal, semantic altiloquence?
Now that we're so aware of goodness, do we even benefit?
Or do we just decay?

Take of the fruit; then you'll know. It's such a miracle.
Build to the sky, and behold the great perspective of your sight
Why do lies steal our innocence with their careful, bogus semantic altiloquence?
Shouldn't we be more aware of goodness? Who does all this benefit?

Cling to the truth, even though it means we'll need a miracle
Leave Paradise, knowing full well it means edenic beauty's sacrifice
One day, he will come, spilling blood and sweat and pain and bringing death down
And everything will be seeped in goodness, peace, and benevolence
And nothing will decay.

10) Heartrending Process of Sand Formation (3:00)

This song was one I managed to write about my breakup with Nick before it had quite happened. The message is simple, but very distressed, and very strong. I felt trapped by messages that teenage relationships are inevitably doomed to fail, and if they fail, they destroy your soul because you're too immature to deal with it. And worse of all, all the same problems kill relationships, so you might as well anticipate all the problems beforehand and break up because you can see disaster coming. I felt like a little kid unwilling to go to sleep because the boogie monster was bound to eat me eventually. None of this was ever communicated to me outright, but I was very freaked out by the societal message that must have sunken in memetically. This was my attempt to say, NO, I don't agree. What we have is beautiful and healthy and good. Worst case scenario, we break up and move on, and if that's really what happens to everyone, then it will be freaking okay. Stop making me all paranoid. Things simply are the way they are and I'll take things as they come. Turns out, we did "break up" within two months of this, and it was healthy enough that "breakup" feels like much too violent a word. This became an important song for me especially after it was official, because I saw how much idiotic stress I'd been caused by ...absolutely nothing.

Just like the beach crumbles 'neath the waves

So we all cave and contribute to the sound

Of life's most natural, normal process of decay

As baby heirs' excitement pulls them towards the foam

So what is wrong when the next one wants to surf?

It hurts, you break apart, become the beach, and live

Stop telling me the ocean's an ugly, deathly fiend

I know what sand feels like underneath my feet

I know my body's meant to crash against the waves

"A bit of precaution's in order

Gone swimming so young, in five minutes, guaranteed you've drowned

The beach is beautiful, won't lie, romantic

But wouldn't you rather fly? Look down from above!

The beach will burn you, break you down, cut you open

Why try, you're so young, you don't know the tides

Give yourself time, grow up, what's the rush?

You'll be dashed against the rocks"

(But then, don't we all end up such?)

"You see it's not quite that it's wrong to want to surf

It's just we focus on the pain and the bad to cope

One day your vain and youthful romance sets you free

Go ahead, it's fine for now, but you'll join our company"

No! Stop fuckin telling me it's a travesty of life just to live

Stop telling me love's a tragedy, better close your eyes

Stop telling me I'm headed straight for sweet bloody demise

I know what sand feels like underneath my feet

I know my body's meant to surf these waves

I know my body's meant to surf these waves

11) [Evaporation] (2:00)

I intend to write a variation on Mist, or perhaps just play the whole thing backward, or something, as a capstone. Haven't figured it out yet. I like the idea of this album being bunch of really intense thoughts being framed by a meditative trance. It's very reflective of how it all came about.