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Last Three Months Theme - Entry Five: Which Wolf Do You Feed?

7. Casiotone For the Painfully Alone


I was driving through Half Moon Bay on my way home from Santa Cruz on an uncharacteristically dry, clear November day. I pulled off of Highway One at a lonely turnout on the coastline to sit and watch the sunset. I walked away from the road and closer to the water and climbed onto a boulder – a broken piece of the cliffs typical of Northern California beaches, and from atop my mountain I looked down over the sea and watched as the horizon disintegrated slowly into obscurity. I was reminded of a trait Kurt Vonnegut adopted from his uncle which he then shared in his book “A Man Without a Country.” His uncle, Kurt related, when doing something enjoyable such as sitting in the garden and sipping lemonade would often acknowledge and vocalize how nice the moment was – he wouldn’t let it pass by disregarded. Kurt then wrote, “I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’” I have also adopted this habit, and sitting at the ocean as dusk set in I said the words quietly to myself.

There was nothing particularly special about the experience – I’ve seen dozens of sunsets at the beach and I’ve made the drive up the coastal highway dozens of times – but for whatever reason sitting alone at that moment I felt contented to my core. That feeling is what comes to mind when I listen to Casiotone for the Painfully Alone. The cheerful, cheap keyboards and fuzzy drum beats paired with earnest narrations and genuine lyrical confessions is something I find utterly lovely – and I’ve discovered no matter how many times I’ve heard it I can’t listen to a track without pausing to acknowledge its niceness. Bay Area native Owen Ashworth is the mastermind behind the lo-fi indietronica solo-project. His albums contain some of the most heart-wrenching songwriting I’ve heard, his lyrics at once playful, stoic, and desperately miserable. I suppose my use of the word “nice” may differ from the way it is construed by other people. This juxtaposition of niceness beside misery, pain paired with pleasure, sorrow communicated through cheerful melodies reminds me of a Cherokee legend.

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An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him angry at a friend who he felt had done him an injustice, "Let me tell you a story...

“I too, at times, have felt a great resentment for those who have taken so much ,with no seeming sorrow or remorse for what they do. I have struggled with these feelings many times." He continued, "It is as if there are two wolves inside me engaged in a challenging conflict.

"One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The littlest thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing.”

He continued, "The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. He does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him, and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.

“Sometimes, it is a challenge to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit. The same challenge is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

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As I go through therapy and engage with my own two wolves, I find the battle between light and dark to be more difficult than I had anticipated. Healing, in itself, is a process, and one which requires a great deal of effort and, indeed, a hunger for recovery.

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Mojo

Another pretty wonderful entry, I have to say.

The feelings you describe towards Casiotone makes me want to explore a little as well. I remember one song you played in Plug recently that, while it sounded good, didn't really leave much of an impression on me. But what can you tell from one song? The feelings you describe from listening are certainly appealing to me. Heart wrenching songwriting huh? I'll give that a go.

+1 again

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WWWP

Thank you. Casiotone didn't strike me immediately either, but neither have the majority of bands I grow to love. I just really appreciate his songwriting, I can totally understand why someone wouldn't dig it, but I'm glad you'll give it a shot.

Obligatory Cover Post:

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Enjoy your mixtapes / I hope you listen and possibly enjoy. Sorry for the weird order, I cba to fix it. In another three months I'll likely repeat this theme because I can't think of any clever ideas.


Tracklist:

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Proudhon in Manhattan – Wingnut Dishwasher’s Union
The Vowels Pt. 2 – Why?
Boylife in America – Cody ChesnuTT
The World is Coming to My Party – Cody ChesnuTT
5 on a Joyride - Cody ChesnuTT
Optimist Vs. The Silent Alarm – Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
Sylvia – Antlers
Acid Song – Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains
Atrophy – Antlers
Limit to Your Love – BADBADNOTGOOD
Mass Appeal/Transmission – BADBADNOTGOOD
Dress Up In You – Belle & Sebastian
Urine Speaks Louder Than Words – Wingnut Dishwasher’s Union
CHSTR – BADBADNOTGOOD
Get Me Away From Here I’m Dying – Belle & Sebastian
Man O’War – Casiotone for the Painfully Alone

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Harmony Parking Lot Song – Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains
If You’re Feeling Sinister – Belle & Sebastian
Northfield, MN – Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
Two – Antlers
Freedom – BADBADNOTGOOD
Killers- Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
There is No God in America – R Stevie Moore
Brook & Waxing – Why?
Cold White Christmas - Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
The Boy With the Arab Strap - Belle & Sebastian
Wake - Antlers
A Sky for Shoeing Horses Under – Why?
Twenty Eight – Why?
Wayne Wayne Go Away - R Stevie Moore
Why Should I Love You - R Stevie Moore
The Seed – The Roots

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So I've been trying to get myself to do more creative writing. It's a hobby I had and employed at a much greater frequency in my teenage years, and something I've really been missing and needing to do again. In order to surmount the incredible amount of writer's block I experience, I've been giving myself prompts. Today I decided to revisit and album I adored a few years ago and see what feelings it brought up and whether or not they could be translated into a story of some kind. This is what I ended up with.

I do suggest playing the following song while reading, as my words are inspired by the music:



The Feeling Seller stood at the intersection of Murphy and Lynch, twirling a thick cardboard sign he had designed himself that read “HAPPINESS® BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND.” In the window of his modest shop in front of which he stood rested against the fingerprint smudged glass a Help If Wanted sign. He was a successful man for a man in his trade, and the Feeling Seller’s integrity was a feature in itself that brought in loyal customers again and again. His patrons often requested Integrity® from the Feeling Seller, but were consistently sent away with a prescription of Temporary Disappointment® to be taken with a light dose of Pride® and a hot meal. In his integrity, the Feeling Seller was careful not to over-medicate: he took every case seriously and attached a great deal of import to his work.

There were people in the Feeling business of course, with less integrity than the Feeling Seller. These were people aptly referred to as Feeling Dealers. Feeling Dealers were only in it for the money, and would commonly, dangerously, prescribe their customers large doses of Positive Feelings without taking care to balance out Joy® or Contentment®, for instance, with Humility® or Melancholy®. Those customers tended to lack, on a general level, any Empathy® and would more often than not end up back at the Feeling Seller’s small shop where their Feelings, if repairable, would be returned to their respective default settings after being given careful amounts of Introspection® and Optimism®. The Feeling Seller knew the harm of giving a person too much of a good thing, and subscribed to the notion that less, especially when in regard to feelings, was more.

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Track One - Don't Just Sit There


I am not a romantic but I was in love once. For a variety of reasons the relationship didn’t last and we didn’t last much longer than the summer. It was a whirlwind romance of sorts, I was sixteen and he was seventeen. We had one of those connections that has only replicated once more in my experience thus far – the kind of connection in which you, from the start, feel that you had known the other person your entire life and that every moment of loneliness you had ever felt was not for nothing: like eating a light dinner to prepare for an indulgent dessert, it was to prepare yourself for the amount of happiness another person you could bring you. I have loved a lot of people – not in the romantic sense; in fact I often wonder if I am even capable of being in love anymore, it’s just not something I necessarily desire or feel a need for in my life. But there is a different and wonderful difference between loving a person and being in love with a person, and I had that with Chris.

We had the indie-movie version of teenaged love; we met while working at a movie theater together. We shared a passion for Neil Gaiman and on our first date we watched the midnight premier of Stardust. We would go to parks in the middle of the night with a blanket to gaze at the stars until the automated sprinkler systems chased us away. We threw our shoes over telephone wires and made each other mixtapes (real mixtapes, cassettes and narrations and the whole package). We played Mario Brothers in his basement and made out in his car for as long as we could before one of my parents, having heard us arrive, would come out into the driveway and call me inside. He taught me how to tightrope walk and I taught him to play "Hey There, Delilah" on guitar.

Years after we had broken up and I had moved away I met Chris for coffee, pie and scrabble at the restaurant we would frequent after our shifts at the theater. It’s a strange thing, falling out of touch with someone to whom you once felt so strongly connected. The small talk we made was painful, and the question we were both dying to ask was whether or not the other person had found someone else. We knew we couldn’t be together, the timing wasn’t right. But Chris will forever be the person I had to set free, because I loved him. In some ways I’ll always be waiting for him to come back.

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Mojo

That's a sweet post!

I often find myself wondering similar things, about what I am actually capable of feeling for someone anymore. I probably would claim to be somewhat of a romantic, in some ways at least, yet I'm not entirely sure I'm fully capable of falling in love with someone. I'm not just talking about an attraction, holding a little flame for someone, not even simply caring for someone, but a connection that only comes from a deeper understanding.

I certainly haven't met anyone in a long time that I felt a particularly deep or meaningful connection with in quite that way. Maybe it's something I won't know I can have until it happens, if it happens.

Ah, mixtapes. I used to love making mixtapes. And I mean 'proper' mixtapes as well, on cassette, where a last minute change in tracklist set you back about four hours. I still have a tape deck but it doesn't get a lot of use anymore, and even if I wanted to make a proper mixtape again, who really has the ability to play it anymore? You used to narrate though? I've never done that.

I take it this entry came from what this particular song makes you think of when you listen to it? I like that. I hope you make more entries like that.

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Last.FM | Echoes and Dust

WWWP

My trend tends to be that I develop really intense but short-lived feelings for people. It's a very shallow way of going about things, which is why I typically avoid relationships. I lose interest easily and become bored, and then withdraw and can't understand why I've upset the other person. But I don't think that's love. I don't think it's even lust or a genuine like for people, in fact at times I think I've been spoiled by that deep connection that I have felt, because I just can't be bothered dealing with anything less.

Yes, this precisely. I don't feel that I'm missing out on anything at the moment, it's not something I long for, but when and if it does happen I'll appreciate and devour it. I've always said I'm not looking for someone to complete me; I'm looking for an equally complete person to have beside me.

The narrations were largely similar to the style of this journal - I would talk between tracks about why I choose the songs I did and what I hoped the other person would get from them.

That's exactly what happened, and that's what I'm doing with each of the tracks from the EP. Cheers, thanks for reading.

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Track Two - Turn it Around


My parents believed that kids aren’t able to get headaches. They believed that depression was a matter of people being simply unable to “cowboy up.” They also believed, in their Mormonism, that dark skinned people are sons of Satan, that Native Americans are the lost tribe of Israel, and that all good Mormons will receive their own planet upon their death. My parents believed a lot, but understood little. They had faith, but not in me.

They taught me that every tragedy was not without warrant. When my friend’s mom died of cancer they said it was because she smoked weed. Everyone Else drove my father to drink, Everyone Else caused my stepmother’s short temper that resulted in punches and thrown objects. There was blame, but there was never accountability.

An upside to this lifestyle was that I got away with a lot. I blamed countless things on Everyone Else around me and once claimed that Satan made me break a wooden duck and then try to dispose of it in the toilet. We prayed as a family and my sin was vanquished.

It wasn’t until the depths of my self-loathing were truly tangible and I became self-aware that I realized this system was faulty. I was always looking outward, seeing wrongdoings and calculating the sinfulness of Everyone Else, I hated everyone around me for allowing my father to be an alcoholic, for allowing the abuse to happen to me, to allow me to feel so terribly about myself all the time. But I was looking through the wrong end of the telescope. I wasn’t looking at my family; I wasn’t looking at the toxins. I wasn’t looking at myself.

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Track Three - Go Home



There’s desperation to these lyrics. It’s a statement to which I think we can all relate in some way, a feeling we have all needed to express. I’m reminded of ex-boyfriends and old love interests; of friends and family members with whom I’ve had ugly falling outs. There are people we develop feelings for and connections to, people by whom we are then betrayed.

There is a peculiar craving for loneliness that appears in my cycles of depression. I want at once to be comforted by loved ones and left alone in my suffering. There is always a push and pull, an inner battle that is raging. Press on my heart, push me past my levels of comfort and I will turn and run without looking back, often times to my own detriment.

My best friend and I had an aggressive, aberrantly malicious argument the night of my suicide attempt in June, and before she left I said something very similar to the song’s cry: I don’t need you anyway, go home.” We have since made up, but it’s a feeling I’ve voiced on more than one occasion and to a variety of people: I’m happier on my own (I’m so lonely), I don’t need you anyway (please help me), go home (don’t leave). I’m hard-headed but completely soft inside.

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