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*Place lots of expletives here*
I came home from the desert with lots of inspiration and creative energy. I really wanted to do something with it. So, after a frustrating wrestle with my SCSI chain last night and no music made, I decided I wanted a bath. That's when I discovered that our apartment does not have a complimentary bath plug. A small thing, to be sure, but enough to make me flip out in my state of real world re-entry...
I was feeling a lot better today, when I got everything to work. Everything! It was the first time in probably damn near a year that I've had everything in my audio rig home, plugged in, and functional at once. I loaded samples and they played back fine and I looped them with the sequencer and I manipulated them with my MIDI fader box and it worked on the first try and I was very excited and ready to spend my afternoon working on getting a solo live set up and running. This has been a goal of mine for well over a year.
And then my sampler died. Again. The one that just came back after its guts were shipped cross country to be repaired. The one that took several months to recieve less than an hour labor from its oh so benevolent makers. The one that, nary a week before that, had its effects processor fixed for a pretty chunk of money. That one. The one that I should hide in a closet lest I kick it down the stairs in a frustrated rage. That one. The only one I have, that I spent *all* of my money on in college. The broken one that makes me feel like the universe does not want me to be an electronic musician at all.
I was feeling a lot better today, when I got everything to work. Everything! It was the first time in probably damn near a year that I've had everything in my audio rig home, plugged in, and functional at once. I loaded samples and they played back fine and I looped them with the sequencer and I manipulated them with my MIDI fader box and it worked on the first try and I was very excited and ready to spend my afternoon working on getting a solo live set up and running. This has been a goal of mine for well over a year.
And then my sampler died. Again. The one that just came back after its guts were shipped cross country to be repaired. The one that took several months to recieve less than an hour labor from its oh so benevolent makers. The one that, nary a week before that, had its effects processor fixed for a pretty chunk of money. That one. The one that I should hide in a closet lest I kick it down the stairs in a frustrated rage. That one. The only one I have, that I spent *all* of my money on in college. The broken one that makes me feel like the universe does not want me to be an electronic musician at all.
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