we're going back in time

I suppose we start somewhere. Former long time online diarist, jumping back in some 10 odd years later. I saw @kingropstyle come out with a blogger, and I followed suit.

G33k t4lk n3rd r0ck (GTNR) was my college radio show on KSSU.com. Then, also on a small AM frequency, I followed in my sisters footsteps and became a DJ. Sandwiched in between Kevin Seconds and Dub V, I was the all over the place nrrd grrl who couldn't control the volume. Not quite turntabalist or mix master, I gave reviews of video games in between chiptune tracks and internet sound bytes in a proto-podcast radio show. I, like every other millennial, look back at the early days of the internet with a deep fondness.

GTNR flyer circa 2007

Now a few years outside of my MFA (thank you thank you now what), I looked back at my relationship to music -something I gave up for my artistic practice, trying to ham-jam the two forms together. Naturally I got frustrated at 1) sucking at music 2) making art that sucks as a result of the former. Enough people building "walls of sound" could help me explore this subject, but they're not who I'm trying to reach. I just want the fun part of making music, without having to reinvent the wheel. Everything has been made anyway, my way of looking at something isn't unique, I just had to find who was already there.

I consume the same amount of media now as I did back then. Franchises and IP's I adored so much have brought on a sense of ennui I haven't felt in a long time... I replaced repeat episodes with news in between sponsored ads. My once active digital social life has become as limp as the penises HIMS promises to fix.

Trina Fernandez @ 2008

A private dance party of one, a song that ends abruptly because of a surprise phone call. 30 minutes of un-advertised, but not interrupted space. The set takes a few days to casually record, here and there after work is done for the day. A small joyful routine that stops me from killing myself. A mix of video game sounds and layer of reference from personal to dumb. A half-hour sorry. A percussive reminder that we are human.

I don't go out like I used to, I don't think anybody does since the pandemic. Maybe it's a side effect of getting older and smoking too much pot alone. But *takes a fat rip* I'm just trying to shop around for the meaning of it all, you know?