hp.Shell Profile Blog Joined April 2010 United States 2517 Posts #1 I've been planning this blog for weeks. I finally took the time to lay it down today.

For your listening pleasure:

+ Show Spoiler + http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeJvvN4PsQM





Both of the dilemma's horns are pointy, and they represent the painful outcome at both ends of a splitting path.



I was between the horns of a dilemma once again. This wasn't just any dilemma. I was deciding the future of my closest friendships. I knew the better choice, but sometimes it's quite difficult to let go.



In 2008 I began smoking cannabis. The first night was quite the treat, too. It was the first and only time I smoked weed outside. In retrospect, I should have done that more often. Anyway, my tall Korean friend from Arizona (the local bleary-eyed stoner) had an apartment nearby a small, underlit park, and it was there that I would be introduced to the herb of herbs.







Seriously, guys. It's just a plant!



The six of us sat opposite one another on the picnic table. My girlfriend sat to my right, and my friend who had also never smoked before sat to my left. The three stoners sat across from us. My Korean friend had emptied an entire 2-liter of Pepsi that day by means uncertain, though he was known to drink a lot of soda. This empty soda bottle became a makeshift bong, with the help of some aluminum foil. The weed was placed in the cap, and a small hole was punctured in the side, through which the more experienced members of the group drew the smoke into the bottle. Then, the weed was removed, the hole was held shut, and the bottle was passed to the next toker.



I unscrewed the cap and quickly covered the lid with my mouth, inhaling with the power of three brass lungs. The smoke quickly emptied out of the bottle. My throat burned more than I thought it would. I didn't feel super right away, but thankfully we smoked three bowls or so, and by the second or third toke I felt warm, like I do when I have a few beers. My friend got a text at a convenient time, which signaled the end of our smoking session, and the six of us walked back to his apartment to hang out for a while.



It was quite a lot of fun, especially because it was a new experience I was sharing with two of my closest friends. But there was another surprise waiting for us as we sat on the comfy couch to chill. The other apartment dweller had baked pot brownies! It took two bites to eat mine, and it was apparently a really good batch because I felt the change immediately. My legs began vibrating internally, and the sensation went up my spine until it was affecting my entire body. "Whooaaaahh, dude . . . !" I said. The others knowingly smiled.







This is what it felt like.



We had class the next day, and it was getting late, so it was time we got back to the dorm. My girlfriend had the bright idea to go to Wendy's for root beer floats! She always had the best ideas. And boy those little treats were tasty! I don't think I've tasted anything better before or since.



When my other stoner friend found out I had smoked weed for the first time he got pretty excited. The next weekend three of us hotboxed his car and bought snacks at a gas station. And while it was technically the second time I smoked, this was how my journey into stoner culture really began.







This is but a fraction of the beauty that the mysteriously reincarnating fireball held.



Every four or five days from then on, I would get an invite to go smoke in a car with a few people, an offer I only refused twice. The little fireball that appeared inside the glass pipe every time it was lit was the visual candy that said "I hope you're ready to feel good, because I'm gonna kick your ass!" And it was this virtual porn that, much like a juicy steak can make one salivate, sparked a toker's desire within me every time I had the pleasure of witnessing its beauty.



A year later, I was living with one of my best friends and smoking inside every day, without fail. We had some good times that year, but buying weed from dealers (and getting ripped off even by the ones I called "friends") had become such a routine in my life, where once I had no notion of the experience, that both my wallet and my tolerance for bullshit were growing thin. My girlfriend had left me months ago for some other guy she fucked while she was out of state for a job interview, and she even transferred to his college at the end of the semester, leaving me only male influences. We played a lot of Rock Band. I think when she left I turned to my other love and began abusing the plant like a five dollar hooker instead of enjoying it like a new girlfriend. I remember buying an ounce of green that kept me on top for a good month. When I was finally sober again it was like a new high.







The man whose bad habit had a profound influence on my close friends. His music can also be healing. Ironic.



When my friends were unanimously interested in trying coke, I got scared. It was like being hit by a bus. I withdrew into myself for a while and stopped buying weed. My friends didn't understand what was going on. "Are you feeling okay?" they asked. I didn't know what to tell them. We had always agreed to keep it to weed, and now... someone was just trying to feel closer to Jerry Garcia. I made the decision to cut the apartment lease short and moved into a one-bedroom apartment by myself. I cut all contact as soon as I could and quit smoking at the same time.



The next year or two I was in a hole that kept getting darker. I had become irresponsible and taking care of myself at the same time as losing my closest friends to a decision that kept me out of real trouble was proving to be difficult. I stopped eating. I stopped crying. I almost thought I was going to become suicidal. I started seeing a psychologist. I got into conspiracy theories. I started driving around the city for hours at 2am just to get out of my head. My life was falling apart.



The days were long, but redefining the word "friendship" meant that making new friends was impossible, so I was absolutely alone, with the exception of family, for a long time. This was the first time I had really experienced such a great loss, and the idea of temporary friendships is still a bit unnerving at times.



And when I was at my lowest, sometimes waking up at sunset for weeks in a row, I found a little bit of light to hold onto. His name was Nujabes.



+ Show Spoiler [Start this song here.] + http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LiGK92o1cm4





Unfortunately, there aren't many pictures of Seba Jun as good as this one.



Like a great teacher that was sent by the universe especially for me, I found Seba Jun online at the right moment. He had died only a few weeks before, and his spirit was reaching out stronger than it ever could have while he was alive. Like Obi-Wan Kenobi, upon Nuja's death, he became more powerful than anyone could possibly imagine. News of his untimely death spread quickly, because so many people had found him before he was gone. His name became mainstream when he scored tracks for Samurai Champloo, including the title theme "Battlecry" that has become my own personal theme song. His music has an intense healing effect, and it became my medicine.







a freelancer, a battlecry of a hawk make a dove fly and a tear dry



My last.fm says that I have 2697 Nujabes plays. Adding related artists and collaborators, the plays total 4062. About 200 of these plays did not take place during my dark era of self-discovery, so I listened to Nujabes effectively 3800 times over a period of about 18 months. And that's not even including all the plays last.fm didn't pick up when I was at my mom's house or listening somewhere else. At an average of four minutes per song, that means I listened to at least 28 minutes of Nujabes and his collaborators per day for 540 days straight, give or take a few weeks. Truth is I probably listened to his music for forty minutes one day and twelve hours the next, passing through extremely short periods of Metal along the way. I was even the top last.fm listener for Nujabes for a few months. My competitors had been established for quite some time. This might give you a better picture of just how much of a friend and companion Nujabes was to me during this time.



The lyrics for some of the songs might have gone stale a few weeks after their conception, but the large majority of Nujabes' music is instrumental, and most of the pieces that include lyrics are still as fresh as they were when the CD still smelled that way. The way he blended such an interesting instrumentation into each song speaks for itself. The drums don't get stale either, because there are subtle changes in them throughout. Every once in a while, he hits a gold mine of a collaborator, and the words really fit the rhythm and the drive. But after listening for so long, I think it's Nuja's flute that does most of the healing.



I had a dream of becoming a great film scorer for a few years before, but I never felt it was possible to get such a lucky break. Sure, I had a path to follow by watching Michael Giacchino evolve from a video game scorer (Medal of Honor), to a TV series composer (Alias, Lost), all the way up to the big screen(The Incredibles, Ratatouille, Mission Impossible: IV), but my lack of a real network in the industry and my low talent for meeting and connecting with people made me keep telling myself that I would never make it. Now my dreams have evolved, and with this evolution has come a rope thrown down into the dark well of my existence that promises to allow some small space for my dream, if I just grab on and climb. I just want to make music that heals and helps people. I want to be like Nujabes.



If you haven't had the pleasure of listening to the healing power of this man's music, I can't recommend it enough. You have to listen to at least one of his songs before you die.













When it comes down to it, nothing lasts﻿ forever, especially those things we find most amazing. They seem to come in the flash of an eye, and leave with another flash. That's what Nujabes IS, he provided music that people NEEDED. Music to get you through those days you needed something more. Music that allowed you to feel, allowed you to embrace. To tell you the truth, Nujabes didnt make music, he made feelings and emotions sound beautiful... Now he's up there, letting God feel his music.

~comment from a youtube listener





I was between the horns of a dilemma once again. This wasn't just any dilemma. I was deciding the future of my closest friendships. I knew the better choice, but sometimes it's quite difficult to let go.In 2008 I began smoking cannabis. The first night was quite the treat, too. It was the first and only time I smoked weed outside. In retrospect, I should have done that more often. Anyway, my tall Korean friend from Arizona (the local bleary-eyed stoner) had an apartment nearby a small, underlit park, and it was there that I would be introduced to the herb of herbs.The six of us sat opposite one another on the picnic table. My girlfriend sat to my right, and my friend who had also never smoked before sat to my left. The three stoners sat across from us. My Korean friend had emptied an entire 2-liter of Pepsi that day by means uncertain, though he was known to drink a lot of soda. This empty soda bottle became a makeshift bong, with the help of some aluminum foil. The weed was placed in the cap, and a small hole was punctured in the side, through which the more experienced members of the group drew the smoke into the bottle. Then, the weed was removed, the hole was held shut, and the bottle was passed to the next toker.I unscrewed the cap and quickly covered the lid with my mouth, inhaling with the power of three brass lungs. The smoke quickly emptied out of the bottle. My throat burned more than I thought it would. I didn't feel super right away, but thankfully we smoked three bowls or so, and by the second or third toke I felt warm, like I do when I have a few beers. My friend got a text at a convenient time, which signaled the end of our smoking session, and the six of us walked back to his apartment to hang out for a while.It was quite a lot of fun, especially because it was a new experience I was sharing with two of my closest friends. But there was another surprise waiting for us as we sat on the comfy couch to chill. The other apartment dweller had baked pot brownies! It took two bites to eat mine, and it was apparently a really good batch because I felt the change immediately. My legs began vibrating internally, and the sensation went up my spine until it was affecting my entire body. "Whooaaaahh, dude . . . !" I said. The others knowingly smiled.We had class the next day, and it was getting late, so it was time we got back to the dorm. My girlfriend had the bright idea to go to Wendy's for root beer floats! She always had the best ideas. And boy those little treats were tasty! I don't think I've tasted anything better before or since.When my other stoner friend found out I had smoked weed for the first time he got pretty excited. The next weekend three of us hotboxed his car and bought snacks at a gas station. And while it was technically the second time I smoked, this was how my journey into stoner culture really began.Every four or five days from then on, I would get an invite to go smoke in a car with a few people, an offer I only refused twice. The little fireball that appeared inside the glass pipe every time it was lit was the visual candy that said "I hope you're ready to feel good, because I'm gonna kick your ass!" And it was this virtual porn that, much like a juicy steak can make one salivate, sparked a toker's desire within me every time I had the pleasure of witnessing its beauty.A year later, I was living with one of my best friends and smoking inside every day, without fail. We had some good times that year, but buying weed from dealers (and getting ripped off even by the ones I called "friends") had become such a routine in my life, where once I had no notion of the experience, that both my wallet and my tolerance for bullshit were growing thin. My girlfriend had left me months ago for some other guy she fucked while she was out of state for a job interview, and she even transferred to his college at the end of the semester, leaving me only male influences. We played a lot of Rock Band. I think when she left I turned to my other love and began abusing the plant like a five dollar hooker instead of enjoying it like a new girlfriend. I remember buying an ounce of green that kept me on top for a good month. When I was finally sober again it was like a new high.When my friends were unanimously interested in trying coke, I got scared. It was like being hit by a bus. I withdrew into myself for a while and stopped buying weed. My friends didn't understand what was going on. "Are you feeling okay?" they asked. I didn't know what to tell them. We had always agreed to keep it to weed, and now... someone was just trying to feel closer to Jerry Garcia. I made the decision to cut the apartment lease short and moved into a one-bedroom apartment by myself. I cut all contact as soon as I could and quit smoking at the same time.The next year or two I was in a hole that kept getting darker. I had become irresponsible and taking care of myself at the same time as losing my closest friends to a decision that kept me out of real trouble was proving to be difficult. I stopped eating. I stopped crying. I almost thought I was going to become suicidal. I started seeing a psychologist. I got into conspiracy theories. I started driving around the city for hours at 2am just to get out of my head. My life was falling apart.The days were long, but redefining the word "friendship" meant that making new friends was impossible, so I was absolutely alone, with the exception of family, for a long time. This was the first time I had really experienced such a great loss, and the idea of temporary friendships is still a bit unnerving at times.And when I was at my lowest, sometimes waking up at sunset for weeks in a row, I found a little bit of light to hold onto. His name was Nujabes.Like a great teacher that was sent by the universe especially for me, I found Seba Jun online at the right moment. He had died only a few weeks before, and his spirit was reaching out stronger than it ever could have while he was alive. Like Obi-Wan Kenobi, upon Nuja's death, he became more powerful than anyone could possibly imagine. News of his untimely death spread quickly, because so many people had found him before he was gone. His name became mainstream when he scored tracks for Samurai Champloo, including the title theme "Battlecry" that has become my own personal theme song. His music has an intense healing effect, and it became my medicine.My last.fm says that I have 2697 Nujabes plays. Adding related artists and collaborators, the plays total 4062. About 200 of these plays did not take place during my dark era of self-discovery, so I listened to Nujabes effectively 3800 times over a period of about 18 months. And that's not even including all the plays last.fm didn't pick up when I was at my mom's house or listening somewhere else. At an average of four minutes per song, that means I listened to at least 28 minutes of Nujabes and his collaborators, give or take a few weeks. Truth is I probably listened to his music for forty minutes one day and twelve hours the next, passing through extremely short periods of Metal along the way. I was even the top last.fm listener for Nujabes for a few months. My competitors had been established for quite some time. This might give you a better picture of just how much of a friend and companion Nujabes was to me during this time.The lyrics for some of the songs might have gone stale a few weeks after their conception, but the large majority of Nujabes' music is instrumental, and most of the pieces that include lyrics are still as fresh as they were when the CD still smelled that way. The way he blended such an interesting instrumentation into each song speaks for itself. The drums don't get stale either, because there are subtle changes in them throughout. Every once in a while, he hits a gold mine of a collaborator, and the words really fit the rhythm and the drive. But after listening for so long, I think it's Nuja's flute that does most of the healing.I had a dream of becoming a great film scorer for a few years before, but I never felt it was possible to get such a lucky break. Sure, I had a path to follow by watching Michael Giacchino evolve from a video game scorer (), to a TV series composer (), all the way up to the big screen(), but my lack of a real network in the industry and my low talent for meeting and connecting with people made me keep telling myself that I would never make it. Now my dreams have evolved, and with this evolution has come a rope thrown down into the dark well of my existence that promises to allow some small space for my dream, if I just grab on and climb. I just want to make music that heals and helps people. I want to be like Nujabes.If you haven't had the pleasure of listening to the healing power of this man's music, I can't recommend it enough. You have to listen to at least one of his songs before you die. Please PM me with any songs you like that you think I haven't heard before!