Act 2

He hated "facebooking" and "twittering," activities that act as a precursor to online bickering, more evidence of him trying to fit in, he stood steadfast on the sidelines of social scenes, always the one that would question the nature of teams, a habit he developed in his post teens, reclusive nature, wallflower self-esteem, couple that with a mind that would always question things, and you begin to slightly understand this fellow, a guy who would be described by most as a mellow, on the surface that is, his mental wages war like Othello, but back to the tale at hand, he's in the same spot, same groove, same self-loathing attitude, surrounded by a wealth of people, but his temperament remains crude, let's see what's happening in the room.

Ladies in clans, skins tanned, sporting High Street gems and lesser known brands, sipping Bellinis' and Pinot, the odd cultured lady partaking in Merlot, cute as can be, dudes stand scattered, engrossed  in their greatness, in their minds, others don't matter, their timepieces filled with icy matter, bench-press heroes, their arms looking fatter, they never do legs though, a loaf of bread balancing on two poles.

He smirked to himself, the world he inhabited, slightly confused him, but always amused him, he had other thoughts in his mind, at this moment in time, he sipped the last of his drink and floated away to think.

He held visions of success, wild philanthropy, he seemed happier in his dreams, probably, because he lived a better version of himself or so it would seem, one that not only jumped hurdles, but straight cleared them, a force to be reckoned with, an example for all men, knowledgable, conversant, a complete person, yeah, people would listen to that dream version.

Three things I learnt this week.

1)
Dreams bring to fruition the things one represses, shirks or flees from in real life. For example, if you dream of fist-fights, or grappling with your boss and placing him in several Hulk Hogan approved chokeholds, then chances are, you probably avoid such situations in your woken life.

2)
NEVER call the slightly attractive English lady who operates the welcome desk at Haringey Council “darling,” for she will look at you with great contempt and disgust, more so if your spoken English is either fractured or riddled with urbanisms.

3)
Lying to others is extremely easy but lying to oneself is a much harder feat.

Chapter 5

He had decided to make her dinner. Spaghetti Bolognese. It wasn’t the most a la carte dish, but it was by far the most perfected in his culinary arsenal. He had just finished straining the spaghetti, enjoying the warm atmosphere that comes from such activities, when the front door slammed shut.

She skulked into the kitchen, weary, defeated, hair ruffled and plopped her bag onto the tiled floor of the kitchen.

“Hey babe,” he said, all smiles and cheers with his head stuck in the nether regions of the fridge. “I decided to make you dinner. You sounded a little down when I spoke to you at lunch, so I thought; I know what will bring a smile to that face of yours...spaghetti...”

“Bolognese” she said, completing his sentence and choking back her disgust at his predictability.

“How did you know?” he exclaimed.

Her lethargic demeanour vanished and she grabbed her bag with force, turned and left the kitchen and made her way upstairs, her feet and the beige carpet bearing the brunt of her frustrations. She shoved the door of their bedroom, threw her bag onto the bed and soon joined it.

He carried on preparing the dish in the warmth of the kitchen, grating cheese, adding basil and parsley to the simmering contents on the stove, all the while, his face blank, his heart empty and his mind confused. HE had made a gesture and SHE had stormed off, bloated on her own self-importance, totally oblivious to him. “This is nonsense” he thought. He turned the stove down and marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs and with great vigour headed towards their bedroom.

He saw her, sitting on the bed, body arched, head down. His anger melted at the sight of her. Her, dressed in black, sitting so defenceless and void of strength. He daren’t enter for fear of intruding. Instead he peered into the room and gazed at the woman he loved, the woman whom he was subject to.

She had her head clutched in her hands and was crying, silent tears of despair. She looked up and caught her reflection in the mirror opposite. Massacre trickled down her cheeks, leaving a black trail of tears and regret, the souvenirs of a woman in pain, a desperate individual with options but without the conviction to act on them.

Farewell

At some stage in the 00's, I had entered a musical drought, nothing seemed to move or inspire me. I had just come out of a turbulent relationship with garage and a sordid affair with hiphop, so like most lonely males, I was in need of  a new chase, something young, fresh and exciting. Enter one Dominic Stanton.

I had stumbled across Dominic (better known as Domu) after listening to the likes of 4hero, Zero 7 and the Cinematic Orchestra. His first full length LP "Up and Down" was nothing short of brilliant to me. Full of samples and synth leads, it helped me appreciate the finer art of drum programming and song arrangement. This album

For years to come, his work would astound me, whether it be the string of 12"s he released on 2000Black (check "Save It,"), his monthly mixes he would upload (my fave entitled "charity shop breaks" which includes the theme from Grange Hill), his follow up album "Return of the Rogue" or anyone of the copious amount of remixes he has put out under the many guises he takes, Sonar Circle, Rima, Umod to name a few. His musical knowledge seemed boundless, being able to hold intricate conversations about the role of the recession in the creation of drum n bass (his was part of the Reinforced crew) or, Herbie Hancocks' scientific approach to synth programming.

Apart from being a sterling musician, he is also an exceptional writer and critique of the world at large and his blogs were always a source of wisdom and insight, but while reading his blog today, I learned that he has decided to end his musical career. To me, this came as grave news. Not because he believes he has come to the end of his creative spree, but because of the effect it has had on him personally.

I for one will miss his creative input to the world, as he always managed to bring a smile to my face and a shuffle to my feet. If you are unfamiliar with his work, please Google him, you will not be disappointed.

This is his post in full.

The End

It’s over. I can’t go into the personal reasons, but of course will leave you some explanation as to how I got here. It feels a bit like walking away from a life of crime or the Mafia. I am Carlito, I have finally made the break from the old dangerous way of making a living. I just hope Benny from the Bronx doesn’t shoot me as I am boarding the last train out of here. The point is that I am no longer Domu. He is a character, always has been, and as of Friday 13^th November 2009, he no longer exists. Neither does Umod, Sonar Circle, Bakura, Yotoko, Rima, Zoltar, Blue Monkeys, Realside or any of the other names I put out music under. I am cancelling all my gigs and not taking any more. My hotmail is closed, my Twitter is closed and my Facebook is closed. If any of you want to talk to me and know me well enough to have my mobile number then that is still the same, and please feel free to call any time. My other email address I mail from occasionally is still open to tie up any loose ends.

I had started to change, for the worse I am now sure. My confusion was growing, my insecurity and bitterness getting out of hand, a lack of creative direction and focus were leading me somewhere very dark. I have felt so depressed by all of this. Believe me I have searched my soul long and hard this year to find the reasons again why I do this, but I can’t locate them. Too much of ‘me’ is mixed up into all of this, and no one should ever give so much of himself or herself to a job. I once believed in all of it, that I made and played music for a certain type of person, for people who didn’t want to adhere to the ‘normal’ way of life, the free thinker, the independent or open minded type who was bored of the genres, the staples, the blueprints or the formulae. The underground. But I just don’t truly believe I am needed in this battle anymore. It has been passed down to another generation, who are doing it their way, and I have no desire to try and edge in and start proclaiming to be fighting a fight that is no longer mine. I am a 31-year-old man. I can’t claim to be holding a torch up to something that meant so much to me at 15. At 21, maybe. But now, after ten years going full time, I think I have said all I had to say. My creative light has dimmed. Maybe because I started so early, who can tell? But I feel satisfied that this is it.

I have had an amazing time. I’ve travelled the world, drank and partied and made a decent living out of entertaining people throughout all of my 20’s. I met some incredible people in cities I never dreamed I would visit, shared my thoughts and collected wisdom from a huge range of deeply profound and lovely people. But I have also met some real arseholes, and I could feel I was becoming one. Playing records I wasn’t sure I liked to people who had no idea who I was. I had gone cold, cold to the music, to the reactions and to the point of it all. I was changing what I thought I liked, so that I would be liked. I am not a chameleon. I am not Madonna, I can’t stay abreast of the current styles and keep changing with it just to stay in fashion or retain some kind of credible status or career. I have had my moment. If you know me well, you would have sensed a change in me over the last two years. I have always suffered with problems of confidence, but I know that’s not why I am throwing in the towel. I feel like I have to change so much of what I think is ‘me’ to carry on. What I believe in, how to talk to people, how to behave. I just don’t think I can be so arrogant and harsh to stand out anymore. There is so much noise out there that people have to shout louder and louder to be heard. And for what? I am beating myself up over something I no longer believe in for an income that is stressfully patchy and more often than not, very low.

I used to say I owed it to ‘the fight’ to keep going. My belief in that has waned over the last few years too. Yes we needed Coltrane to go against the grain, to sacrifice his well-being and life to create beautiful art. We needed all of them, creative and unique beings burning brightly in our souls, our influences and idols that created the music and the movements that can provide us with sanity, sanctuary and meaning through our confusing lives. But music has lost some of it’s meaning to me as a medium. It’s everywhere; everyone is making it, playing it, giving it away, and trying to make a living. So many people have a voice in it now it is hard to pick out what is cutting edge from what I actually truly feel. I have gotten numb to my life’s biggest passion, and I need to leave it for a while to see if I can ever get it back to how it was.

Some have attributed meaning and understanding to my some of my work. I know it is special to some people, and my message was understood by a few, which I am very grateful to have come to know over the years. I was lucky enough to catch a ride in it for a while, was recognised by some very special and talented people and I earned the respect of my peers and achieved a hell of a lot in a short space of time. There have been huge highs whilst playing music to all sorts of crowds, creating an atmosphere and being in control. I have felt the joy and adrenaline rush of the success, alongside the emptiness and despair of the empty club or the unresponsive floor. Now I recognise I have done all that, I need to put it all behind me and move on, and the only way to do that is to disappear. It has to end sometime, and as I keep saying, everything is finite. I don’t want to lose everything else in my life for this. I just don’t believe in it enough to make that sacrifice. The kids are fighting the battle now. I hope I influenced some of them, I know I have, and that gives me a sense of ease doing this. I haven’t wasted 10 years, I know I have bought joy and hope to many of the disenfranchised, the open-minded, the musical outsider or the devoted dancer. There are people creating things and using technology in a way that I am having to try and catch up to, but I no longer feel the desire to. They are doing it better than I ever could now. It’s their time, and mine has passed. You can either think I am being incredibly brave by admitting it or incredibly weak and stupid for stopping. But it’s just how I feel. I was going wrong in many aspects of my life, and I need to start making a change. I have no idea how long this piece will stay up, but this site won’t be here forever. Please feel free to copy and paste and pass on to preserve it, to let others know why I left, assuming anyone cares.

I have tears in my eyes now. I have so many people to thank for all the personal and professional support they have given me over the years, but I shall do that personally in time. But I want to thank everyone who has bought a song, paid an entrance fee, had a dance or just come up and spoke to me about life, music, the world or whatever. You have given me a dream-like blessed existence for many years. If I have inspired anyone, then I am a happy man. You all have certainly inspired me, and I want to use those years of travelling and sharing to good effect, not this anger and confusion I feel towards it all now. I need to find meaning to the next phase of my life. So I bid you all farewell. I am just too sensitive to keep up the façade of something that doesn’t feel right. I knew it would come someday, maybe some of you that knew me saw it too. I have so much love and respect for my peers and teachers that are carrying on with the struggle, and want the next generation to achieve the best they can for themselves and their art. I am just not a lifer. I’ve traded up, and I’m out.

I’ll leave you all with this. Life isn’t the X-Factor. No one has a God given right to his or her dream or ambitions coming true. I have worked hard and had some great luck. I followed some opportunities, squandered others. I have no regrets, other than not stopping when I knew I should have done this time last year. The only thing you have to guide you through your life is your instinct. Sometimes the right decision isn’t the easiest, but between your conscience and your intuition you will find the answer. Please listen to it. It’s you.

Act 1

He was known to converse in manner that was candor, contributed to blogs and forums with insight and banter, words were often his allies, they brokered deals and created thrills, conjured truths and misplaced lies, what a guy, net nerd queens sipped his style like after work Mai Tais', he never understood why, he knew he was ways off from being a desirable guy, the perks of online lives, nobody knows nobody and in this mantra was where he would spend his time.

Sat alone at the bar, he reviewed his life thus far, he recalled an innocent infancy. moments past with the women he no longer sees, complex relationships with family, normal so far he surmised, then turned left in his mind to see what he could see, a lot of time spent  worrying and wondering, an ability to hide his true thoughts, true cunning, fast forward a few years, discomfort among peers, reckless student in his teen years,
a boy among men, never shook fears, music and family, his consistent cares, before he was met with further flashbacks, he snapped back to reality, "barkeep, same again, this time no coke with the cognac."

Drinks magnified pain, an ethos he believed should be engraved on the walls of bars and clubs to shock and awe the masses, and leave mental stains, so instead of downing shots of dark liquor, they might seek more suitable ways to manage their pain and hide their disdain.

The wisdom of HIM.

An abridged excerpt of a conversation I had last week. Truth be told, it's a recurring topic in conversations had with others and myself.

Him: What’s the job front saying though?


Me: Work? I’m still looking for something I really enjoy.

Him: Enjoy?

Me: Yeah, of course. We spend the bulk of our adult life at work, we must be able to extract some enjoyment from it shouldn’t we?

Him: Nah mate.

Me: No?

Him: Nope. I think people place too much emphasis on this “happiness at work” shit.

Me: What do you mean?

Him: What you do is what you do innit. Reality is, there are not enough dream jobs to for everyone so you might as well do a job that doesn’t stress you out and pays you enough to do what you want to do.

Me: Seriously?

Him: Yep. Its what you do in your time outside of work that counts.

Me: Seriously?

Him: Yeah mate. I’d love to have a job where I go in at 9am, no, 10am, no 11 am and finish at 6pm or whatever and no matter what I’m doing, when it hits 6pm, I drop it and walk out, and when I leave work, I don’t think about it until I’m back there.

Me: Seriously?

Him: Yeah man. I would go home, link my people and be easy, spend time and energy with them.

Me: Interesting.

Him: Trust me, it’s what you do out of work, in your own time that matters.