As a young teenager in Canada, after fleeing the cruel balkan-style Yogurt, err, I mean warfare that tore Jugoslavia apart, though it could've been the bad yogurt, I'm not yet sure, I realized something very interesting. Heaven can be on Earth. The house we moved into in Toronto was so beautiful, and the neighbourhood so pristine, clean, manicured, and void of graffiti, all the houses looked brand-spanking new, that I honestly thought I was in another world. Not only that, but at twelve it was the first time in my life I had a bed in my own bedroom. I know for most North Americans this is interesting as you all grew up with a room of your own and toys and clothing and so forth, but I did not. At most I had a converted kitchen pantry that had a bed hanging from the ceiling so that I'd have space to pretend to be a bad ass Run DMC breaker. Though after rotating on my knee once I gave up as it hurt like a cop. So I never learned to dance, and I still don't know how. But back then I noticed how in all the MTV videos and even in TO on Much I saw how love, masterfully crafted and dressed up better than a supermodel's salad, seemed to exist only for the super rich. At least that's what I thought of this big white world. I knew better though, but still I wondered if it existed beyond that landscape. The role models for love in my life thus far could not provide even a Ferrari toy to push around as a kid, let alone a non-school related vacation. So whlie love existed, I didn't see those whom truly loved rewarded by their society anywhere other than on American television. Clearly celebrities had love. Clearly.
So the moment my mother sacrificed everything and bought our family a computer I started composing music. It wasn't my ideal hobby mind you as we couldn't even afford headphones and I spent much time composing and then fine tuning whenever my friends in school allowed me to listen to my tunes on theirs. It was a gruelling process. I would compose for hours and hours many variations, some with higher some with lower frequencies. Then listen to iterations on their headphones. Then go back to the song and make adjustments based on what I perceived. And then repeating this for weeks until a song sounded like from the pros. Initially I was missing high frequencies as the piezo speaker did not really reproduce all the sounds. The lows i couldn't adjust very well obviously as headphones back then in the '90s didn't have great reproduction. So I had to find alternative methods. Still my music sucked compared to others I listened to. And then I won third place in a Valentine's contest with the only love song I ever wrote, and that was fun, but honestly it lead to some fly thoughts about love and reminded me of all the things that I wondered about as a kid watching MTV.
Can I, as a musician, know for certain if a woman loves me and not my fame, power, wallet, and prestige? If I have billions, mansions, and can do anything in the world, will a woman love me for me, or will she love what I can bring into her life and thus not love me at all? Will I just be a woman's best accessory, it's what you feminists joke about isn't it? Will I be a woman's wallet? Objectification at its finest, isn't that right women of the pink? This is all the stuff that goes through my mind when I contemplate writing a track. Do I hit up Snoop double-orgy and bust his vibe with a better lyric, or do I pretend I can't write and remain poor and homeless, err, I mean cubicle-employed geek, which is homeless compared to those driving an '83 cadillac in the future. It takes balls and money to maintain those beasts dogcakes. So far I haven't found an answer. I am not interested in being a woman's accessory, nor a wallet emptying wallet. Besides, there's plenty of such men out there. American divorce courts are full of that stuff.
So I chose a different path. I wrote a few modestly good songs here and there after composing a thousand tunes in various software programs. Recorded some live, some not. Wrote in all genres except film scores. Even a Kung Fu school uses one of my tracks for daily training as I even explored remixing world music such as Chinese traditional Er-hu vibes. And I found one thing now that I am forty. Writing music, is exactly what Jimy Hendrix said, it's love. The problem though, is that not one woman has loved me thus far. And so I worry if I start seriously composing and releasing tracks I might get that attention but then it won't be that attention but it will be that attention. You know? It might be love, but not actual love, but love of power. And I'm not down with that, biatch. I'm somewhat brain boggled and I'm wobbling on this all the time. But ultimately I am not an avoidant man. I'm patient, kind and fun but I also stick to myself. And it seems none of my qualities a single woman in all of TO appreciates. So in a 'round about way I am very thankful that I never pursued music because then I never would have seen the dee-dee-dumbs of this society. I might have been married with kids in a nice mansion, right, and believed I was loved. But now that I lived as one of the poorest Canadians for three decades, so poor that in winters at -40 I walked for an hour to school due to an inability to afford a TTC ticket, now I know what is truly in all your hearts. And love ain't it. Now, I think I can sit and write music. Now I can release tons of albums. Because now if a woman does approach me, I will know it's not love she's after with certainty. See, now the game is simple. Now you've all lost. But the best part is all the women who say to me "it's your loss" as they leave. Because it is only my loss as you see. I lost on all the money, all the power, all the thrills, all the ho's, all the loot, all the hits, all the kids, all the fun the rest of you had. Except now I understand that phrase much clearer than before. It is always a victim's loss, baby, and never that of the bully. When a thief laughs in the face of his victim and says "it's your loss" even a little kid can grasp that phrase now, right? So you all shake your booties, enjoy your mansions, and party hard, because now my best years are gone without a single dance. Global warming greets you all with the phrase "Game over."
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