1. My room; 2. My room; 3. Justin's farm in New Market; 4. Justin's farm in New Market; 5. Justin's farm in New Market; 6. Justin's farm in New Market; 7. County fair; 8. Grisha in the attic; 9. Katie and I, listening to Abba; 10. Concert hallI was cleaning out my computer and found a few photos that I thought were beautiful, either by the composition or the meaning behind the event. Together, these photos probably will not make sense, but I like it that way. Life does not make sense.
---EDIT --
The other day while at work I was thinking about a song on mandolin. When I came home I picked up my mandolin and starting playing the chords, and as it turned out the words I conjured up in my head did not fit the actual chords when sung out loud. I didn't feel like the combination of words and music were speaking the same language, or communicating the same message, making the entire creation ineffective. I'm still searching for a formula, and I don't mean that I want my music to be formulaic, but that I want my music to communicate emotions in the most turbulent and unexpected way possible. How does one compose a piece that when exposed to the ears the listener feels like he has been suspended in space and time while colliding into a wall of nothingness?
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