Alone

Sorry.

It’s been a long time, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I sort of physically fell down a downward storm that crushed everything inside me but my body, although I feel it in my bones, something has died in me. It’s funny, it’s the first time I write like this, like I’m really lonely, like I’m really alone. Before? Before I was lying, I was saying “oh Lord, I’m so lonely!” But deep in my heart I still knew that someone was listening.

I was still waiting for someone to come to my rescue and hold my hand and hand me her heart and heal me in the end.

But that was a fallacy. Not only on the sentimental perspective, but even in the realm of comradery. Comradery?

Bullcrap.

You’ve got to realize that no one loves you, and that no one wants you here, or else them too would be penpalling with the stars in longing for an answer. No they don’t. They go about they lives. Pay their taxes, have kids, divorce, then die. That little glow was still very alive within me until that day when I said,

stop, I don’t need you to commit suicide.

And I died, I died to this world, that had never acknowledged me. I died from society and I drifted away not really knowing where to go. I killed that persona, filled to the brim with false hopes, charades and fairy tales, that the grand fakers narrated me time and time again. This is disgusting. Now I know that I am really alone, and that I can’t count on no one,

in three decades maybe they’d dissect my decadence. As usual art critics danse one death too late.

And I’m gone, who can even catch me after I evaporated and bring me back to the pen.

“Personne”, which in French means someone and, nobody.

It’s hilarious, you should laugh, this is what people do when someone dies, they one day smile, then cry, cry, then smile, then die. And people will do the same for them, until there’s no one left.

This man would be the freest man in the history of mankind, he would at length breathe the fresh  air of liberty, before killing himself in his turn. And what did I spoke of a last man instead of a last woman? Well take a walk plebeian.

 

Love (or something like that)

PBx

Hard Core,

Sorry yesterday I was so adsorbed by my tracks I was mixing that I forgot to write an article! 

I looked like a hard core gamer barely moving in front of me screen (haha)

In order to repent from my sin I’ll write another article today! Sounds good right. 

But I wasn’t out there grinding for nothing. It’s not just a blog among x number of random blogs with someone telling their their lives blah blah blah-it’s a blog about music, my music, the music.

By the way 

“Hope” my first EP is coming this month!

I know you can’t wait

I love you,

PB

Let’s Get Lost

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I first saw this expression was in the majestic movie about the turbulent trumpeter/singer Chet Baker.

I’ve always thought of artists as masters of disobedience.

That’s why I’ve always respected  rebels/heros like Kurt Cobain.

Before coming in England I spent hours watching again and again interviews and documentaries about Michael Jackson, The Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana.

I knew everything about them, not like a creepy fanatic but I could redraw the map of their artistic journey mentally.

I wouldn’t reject the fame, the awards, the show-biz, I’ve got to use all that for my  purpose. But I’ve dreamed so hard about coming somewhere, have nothing set, grab a couple of instruments, a few trustworthy friends, a lot of courage, a lot of guts, a lot of dreams, take the road and just get lost.

Nirvana’s journey was just my dream, not the episode when they beat Michael Jackson on the Billboard charts, but how they started-get your drums, guitars a little bit of instant noodles and clean socks and just go.

That’s the mentality I had when I came to England.  I wanted to meet with some dudes or dudettes, and take off, no care given.

All I met there were politicians guessing their chances.

That’s not a diss against England it’s a global phenomenon people want be the next internet buzz sitting on their sofa, they don’t wanna hit the road and go out there meeting with the People. And I find that a bit crazy it’s a flat lack of love towards the audience, the very people you swore eternal love to (only in your songs though).

So I naively showed up with my 90’s grunge boy mentality.

I hit a wall when I met with the senators and the parliament telling me I needed to have “professionally mixed, produced and mastered”. I had dream of playing sweaty bars where people flip opened  beer can in the air and even woman got mad bears (haha) what d’mean holding your soy latte, “professionally blah blah blah”.

I wanted it all dirty, but they asked me to clean the mix.

Though, well I understand now all tracks have to be ready to be sold. It’s not about the adventure,

It’s about the product, not about the song. But to get the song you’ve got to get the artist and to get the artist you’ve got to get the journey.

That’s what music (crooks) professionals forget. That’s why you can have people with no background, with no personality that just “get offered” hit songs and the music execs only read “hit songs”  they don’t care about the artistry.

But bland artists only leave blank pages in history.

Apart from in Billboard magazine.

Depth comes when you dive deep.

Artists with depth is what we’ll lacking right now,

“People wanna be a rockstar, don’t wanna live a rockstar.”

Bruce Flohr

Those who lack talent or confidence are guessing their chances, while those who commit will enjoy the last dance. Us? Let us us not forget what matters most, let us not be concerned about this sentence “wining or losing”, come comrade let’s get lost.

Love,

PB

Lonelines,

Artists worst enemy is loneliness most of the time. What baffles the most is the discrepancy between how much people claim to love art and how little consideration they have for people with an artistic type of personality.
To go straight to the point I’ve been mocked and disrespected every time I told people that I was an artist. Especially at work. If you disclose that to and live and an artist (I mean by that living the lifestyle of an artist not necessarily living off art) people just despise you while crying listening to Céline Dion, banging they head over System of Down or cruising on a Charlie Parker song. You might tell me that they’ve got nothing in common? Wrong. They are all artists. And that’s the fact, artist are so despised (unless they succeed) that 

I pretty sure that whatever artist you worship and stalk on social media, had you met in highschool or at work you wouldn’t be friends.

And that’s the thing, people hate artists they say we’re arrogant, lazy, we should get real jobs, etc man I can expend on that and I’ll do it on another post. But we are resented because we dare to dream, but I think what people reproach us the most is to “strick out” and I you think that close your browser window because I’m about to slam you against the kitchen sink. Sticking out? Who sticks out in this world?

On a planet where each tree, and I did not stutter each tree is unique how much more each human beings with their contingencies of their lives should be unique. 

Some other people stick out because you want to look like everyone else, and in a world where everyone want to fit the mould being oneself is regarded as a revolutionary act of rebellion

So basically, by being yourself you should automatically stick out, but, you’re a sheep and you’re resenting because I’m simply me while you’re a copycat?

 Well hate all you want, being unique is just to be you, sucker.
I’m out,

PB

PS: with love