I've been thinking about some things related to music:

I don't know how to describe it in any in-depth detail, but the music I've been making seems a bit non-sufficient. Not because I want them to have an absurd technical execution that shows everyone that I'm some kind of genius, but because I want to make something unique, something that I can call my own.

My latest songs seem to have been made simply by copying and pasting the ideas put forward by Aphex Twin. The only one that I feel had a shred of originality was recently posted at the time of writing this blog (Pe009n33_2).

I don't mind that every now and then I make a song or two based on an artist I like. The problem is that I want to create my own style, my own way of making electronic music. I want to be able to listen to what I do and feel that I've been able to revolutionise my own taste in music. I'm really tired of listening to the same artists and making a kind of "stagnant" style of electronic music.

With the current state of my non-inspiration, I feel that some of my work has been unable to satisfy me personally. I'm my biggest fan and I want to continue to be, but I don't know which path to take to achieve this feat of having a unique style. I believe that I should continue to listen to music in order to achieve this goal (I would also be grateful if you could recommend any artists - electronic or otherwise).

Sometimes I feel like I am wringing blood out of a stone.

Anyways, this has been Meuny. xoxo

I don't like when people post something that is almost NSFW as if it was rated E for everyone. Mate, there's a fucking female nipple half-shown in your drawing, it should be at least for mature people. I don't mind you being horny and wanting to post your stuff. I actually find it really um ahem good looking ah ahem, but y'all gotta keep in mind that there is a shit ton of minors on this site. Y'all gotta be responsible.

I am a big fan of Gojira, Blonde redhead, Aphex twin and Bjork.

I am open to new genres.

please, i need something to listen to whilst i study!!!

In an empty bowl full of nothing.

An eternal sink of ideas I've never seen.

A succinct inexistence that is ungrateful to me.

Soft noises that have no rhythm.

Poetry full of concrete emptiness.

Truth so in-your-face that it leaves me incredulous.

Obviousness so explicit that it seems insincere.

So shallow that it seems to smooth the brain.

Offensive affection that imposes stupidity on you.

Preposterous ideas full of belief.

Light so strong that your sight can no longer see.

I could call it baby food.

O! Empty poetry of noodles!

It fills me up when I'm hungry.

Soggy with generic, I feel disgusted.

Just close your eyes and nostrils and the disgust goes away.

I saw someone crying because they felt excluded, which hurt a lot since I couldn't do anything to help...

This person was mumbling some things about their "inner-self". I don't know what was going through my head at the time, but I couldn't help noticing that this person was talking about something that simply doesn't make any sense.

If there is an "inner-self", it works together with me, even if I don't realise it, it influences my most immediate decisions. After all, if this person already doesn't like themselves, why should they look for a part of themselves that is even more truly intrinsic to this person?

I get it.

For someone desperate in the midst of darkness, any illusion of a glow is capable of attracting them. Because they don't know the root of their problems, they create solutions from the little empirical experience they have.

I don't want to be hypocritical, because when I suffered I thought the same as this person.

It is called Wind pip

I composed its chord progression based on something I did on my dreams, trying make my very own version of "Xtal" by aphex twin.

In this desert of dry people;

In the unfaithful kiss of the prodigal man;

Spark by spark I make you a sadist;

Humble sense of neglect;

Hovering over the hay will be the beetle;

Confused and idyllic paradigm;

Inherent in the setback of the suffering intimate;

Painting the wall indigo red;

Cruel dislocation of partiality;

Whirlwind of Lutheran lust;

Insipid smoke from an old cigarette;

Uproar presented in a cornucopia;

I'll make you my wretched angel;

Repetitive subtlety in tinsel;

What am I but a false poet?

I play with words, but I get nowhere.

And at the dawn of life comes the dusk of emptiness;

What's the point of talking if I don't take myself seriously?

Even in my desire, I'm still a little uncertain;

Meaningless words make me a sceptic;

Cynic par excellence, they make fun of you;

A rain of stones that breaks a slab;

A trick to cut through the thickest flesh;

A sharp knife to cut through stale bread;

Special care for a suffering heart;

If today I'm a poet, tomorrow I'll be a fake.

True is now, then I'll be lying;

Word scripts full of untruths;

Locutions that are badly made on purpose.

I'm a faker every dark night.

Another tragic stanza dies necrotic, full of the desire to be something more; It can't go beyond what is real. Rooted in the material, the pen doesn't take me beyond where I am. I can even try to go beyond the now by returning to the past, but what would I be doing if not conjuring up dead truths? But if I don't, how much more alive would my work be anyway? I can no longer cope with the nonchalance of my fellow inkers. I'm offended by the laughter of their petty art. I won't hold back my urge to vomit until the truth is told. I'm no better than anyone else, but this emptiness pains me. I see the melancholy tragedy of these people reduced to a lament; hysterical laughter limited to a small smile because if they laugh at the miserable they are being cynical. Lying hypocrisy that insists on this minimum. 

I saw someone trying to mock society and instead of laughing at those who mistreat them, they ended up laughing at the beggar. they reiterated the status quo of a false sense of enlightenment. They humiliated a brother in Christ while claiming to be a Christian. You pointed your rotten finger at the flesh that did nothing for you and sold your soul to the king who made you poor. You committed the gaffe of an exemplarily superficial humour that only reflects in itself the image of our bloody reality. I can no longer tell who is more hypocritical: you for making fun of your brothers or those who consider you an exception - and if anyone laughed at what you said, it proves that your words are not nonsense, but the anthem of a narcissistic collective that can't see beyond its own nose! 

The laughter that once pointed out the irreconcilable has now become the weapon of such petty people. We can no longer describe our tragedy without a hypocrite comparing us to our executioners! The more society appears to be faltering, the more we will renounce the spirit of enlightenment we were promised! The comic is crumbling into agony and darkness, and laughter has become nothing more than an inhuman predicate. Poetry has been transformed into gratuitous offence, and art, which was once the playfulness of the human spirit, has become the provocative and ironic grimace of advertisements. 

The human spirit has been destroyed and what remains is the spirit of conformity!

I cannot lie, i'm really amused by the sheer amount of songs i've composed, holy!

I'm happy that there's plp on this site that actually seem to enjoy me and all of my weirdness. I appreciate everyone's support.

I think that i'll be less online, but that's for i'll have less time for composing my songs and saying stupid supportive thingys to some plp i see on ng.

anyways, i hope yall understand that i won't have as many time as i used to now, but sure i'll keep an eye on what are y'all doing.

well, this has been meuny.

btw, i've made a new song, go check it out!!!

- What's this? - I hear my heart pounding - You're bothering me.

- What's bothering you?

- My chest is beating - I reply hoarsely - and it's bothering me.

- Why does it bother you?

- It makes me anxious, I can't relax with this commotion.

- Why?

- I'm thinking of two possibilities: it prevents me from concentrating on my deep thoughts at night, and the throbbing prevents me from finding a comfortable position.

- And the other?

- This is the one I think is most likely... - I clear my throat - ... It reminds me that I'm alive, and that I'll be alive for a long time.

- I think you need help.

- I think you need to be quiet, heart.