Misanthropy

This is me at Leslie Spit last year. It's my favorite place in Toronto!! The photo is all grainy because it had to be pulled to the extreme, because I opened the camera twice + it had serious light leakage.

I went out last night to see Hudson Mohawke. I have no money or time, but he was so phenomenal in New York last year, I thought it could give me some energy to get back to my school work and maybe make it okay to be out. Of course, it didn’t. The DJ before him was terrible (even though his taste in music is excellent), and it really upset me. The thing is, that people I know were all saying the same thing about how much he was just ridiculous but I’m the one with no social reservations posting about it on Twitter in public and to the said DJ. Of course, no one else would say anything but niceties, and I’m not saying that they should have to publicly confirm all their thoughts,  but it usually ends up being me out there, me, the asshole. I guess, I could just keep quiet, and only say things in private, and be one of those Yes Man’s. but that seems so weird to me. How can change ever occur without some sort of revolt? Of course my comments, instead of being productive get misinterpreted as bitchy opinions, and that’s partly my fault because of the way I communicate them. Opinions are pretty useless most of the time, because they don’t provide any new perspectives. To be concrete and not espouse a musical opinion of his actual performance (because shit, even though many people disliked it, maybe I don’t get what he was trying to do), the DJ lacked vibes and know-how, unable to do justice to any of the great songs. But, maybe he’s just having an off-night, maybe I should just not concern myself so much. Am I being apologetic for my comments now? Maybe not apologetic, but wishing I had reacted differently, wishing that I hadn’t gave myself over to the negativity when I decided to give a shit for a moment, but yeah, it was my money and time, so it makes sense I would, but then to give so much of my needed energy to it too? I guess that’s what I’m frustrated with. In a larger context, I’m trying to figure out why I get so enraged, and why I can’t just let things roll off me.

So no, I didn’t really get to dance, because by the time Hudson Mohawke came on I felt serious misanthropy and frustration. His set was also less than 50 minutes and totally disjointed. The tunes he has are amazing and he played this one tune that made me lose it with some crazy Enya type vocals and he did play Polkadot Blues (!!!), but I could have just stayed home and listened to song after song instead of giving myself all this anxiety. I wonder why it was set up like a concert, song, pause, song, pause, song. Totally different than in New York when it was a full 2-hour cohesive performance, and although the crowd was loving it, I think it’s difficult to lose yourself in the music with long silent breaks between. And I didn’t go to a rock concert, I went to a party, a party that I paid full price to go see, and this is what I get? People moshing. By the end of the night, the enemies I was making out of everyone stacked up high against me.

I really should not go out any more, I have lost the ability to ‘act’ within the social codes of conduct. I am alienating myself from all the people I used to know, ousting myself from the bare minimum of belonging I used to have. “I’m so horrible,” I said to j last night, to which he responded, “No, you are just passionate.” The thing is that all of this does come out of a need for good shit. When there’s something undoubtedly good, I can never fault it, despite personal opinion. I just can’t, and fuck, I throw all of myself into things that I love, giving them all of my energy zealously. But, maybe I should drop the expectations. But, maybe I want to have expectations of performance and of skill (not that I assume myself some ultimate judge but I can only relate to something through my interpretation). I would hope that people would have the same for me, that people would call me on any bullshit, or disagree with me. I want that. I am yearning for the battle, because I’m unsure of myself, and would love some productive honesty. Maybe all this rage is totally misplaced? I know it isn’t always, but this rage didn’t fuel me at all, just pronounced the disappointment I felt with the night.

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There’s a lot more things happening in my life, exciting things, but also many things I have to be responsible for and make decisions about, and I have serious problems taking on decisions even if once I have accepted the decision, I go head first. These are the many things to write about, not this ramble. Lesson Learned ya?