So it seems like I can mostly only write when I'm down; or very solitary. Seems like that's when I have the drive to. https://soundcloud.com/sasha_tramp/morning-guitar-improv-april-10 It seems though that there is still the possibility of talking through music, typically the more direct form of expression. This morning I decided to play around with modifying chord … Continue reading Guitar messing about making up chords (sound journal)
This blog is about a year old now. Since my life has shifted quite a bit since I've started writing it, I keep thinking about re-branding or re-conceptualising what this is about. Actually the subject I might have the most things to say on recently is "survival in Berlin". Perhaps it's also relationships. Yes, I … Continue reading One year of hyper-empathy
Well, not precisely. But in one of the cuddling sessions, N. said, matter shapes consciousness – rather than the reverse (or perhaps, much more than the reverse). I have not invested the time into researching whether this line of pop-marxism from the lips of my punk-dyed psychedelic-ingesting Berlin queer friend represents the theoretical plot accurately … Continue reading How Berlin converted me to Marxism-Leninism
Waiting for the washing machine to finish washing, contemplating events of the day. My friend who got denied his application for benefits that I was hoping would pull him out of where he's been for decades. Disappointment, pain, and some practice in empathy balancing: me getting worried makes it worse for him. Thinking about empathy, … Continue reading Washing machine blues # dilemmas of empathy
In a previous post I have documented the process of ruining a simple landscape sketch. Since I don't like wasting canvasses (or wasting paint), I keep occasionally trying to somehow "fix" or improve the situation of that horrible canvas. I figured out that one of the reasons I ruin sketches is that by adding more … Continue reading Recycling ruined canvasses is like working with your past.
I don't like when I've got some paint left on the palette that would just dry up and be wasted. For some reason often red paint remains. I had a lot of red paint today and decided to use it up in some way, and produced a series of abstractions that I honestly like because … Continue reading Leftover red paint #1
I vaguely remember reading that Paul Celan, the Jewish-German poet born in Romania and going through the Shoah, had issues writing in German after the Holocaust. That makes more than sense. Yet, wikipedia claims he said: "There is nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even when he is a … Continue reading Celan and the mother tongue
I saw clouds of sadness of slowness I was welcoming solitude with a safety net with an "other shore". . I'm not sure why it's so difficult: either I am with you, and then I feel the compulsion to know in each split second what exactly you expect from me, what to say, what to … Continue reading Torn between the company of humans, of nature, of self. Some perhaps autistic perspectives.
Personal stories in the context of #TakeTheMaskOff – hiding and camouflaging autism spectrum traits for so-called social acceptability. How I did it, why and how I'm doing it less, results. . Accusations of authenticity I've been accused by a friend, a while ago, of always trying to be completely authentic. Even in situations in which … Continue reading Autistic masking and authenticity. #TakeTheMaskOff