The last time a big-drama period took place (this was, for me, 2007), I all but collapsed. Response-ability and proactivity went out the window; made a plethora of bad calls that took me years to extricate myself from. Could I avoid a repeat experience, could I make more of this year, and of years to come? Actually, forget all that. First of all: could I just survive? And if so, how?
 
All I had was a sliver of an inkling, that the key to even making it through the year at all in one piece would lie in staying on a particular side of a particular threshold. There isn’t really a name for this, at least that I know of, but it’s what could be termed the participation/commentary axis. Action/reaction is a simpler form of this idea, encapsulated by but not fully conveying what it means; in the recesses of my memory I can remember the terms “spheres of influence” and “spheres of concern,” which feel as though they relate to what’s going on here as well.
 
But it was no more than a theory, if that. Stay proactive, focus on what you have direct influence over, eliminate the sphere of concern from your mind: you have no control over it, and do do do. Visions and intentions are no longer enough. Take action. Participate. This was the hunch, and it was all I had to follow. So we did, knowing full well that, in life, as in both history and daytime television...

​Elizabeth and I both somehow knew that to stand a chance of survival, we’d have to dive deep, make major changes, and many of them, to our lives. It was one of those ideas we’d seen countless times on old episodes of star trek: flying into the killer energy beam without shields (That’s SUICIDE, Data!!!), so dive we did, and here at year’s end, is at least some perspective from what was sown. 

​After last year’s cryptic “sum up” (if you could call it that) of this project’s progress, I’m happy to report there has been forward motion sufficient as to be able to share with you at least a few parts of the process of development that has been taking place.
 
This year was very exciting for DoT, and for BlueDorian’s visual art and multimedia initiatives in general. We began the year with big zeros lining the x-axes: no work product, no network of collaborators to help produce it, and no experience or knowledge as to how to go about creating or finding either. After several months, and no small amount of elbow grease i.e. the seemingly endless trolling of sites such as deviantart and behance (still can’t pronounce that, please advise), we managed to put together a small yet growing list of artists, character designers, and illustrators, all of whom we hope to explore working with in the future. Currently, we are actively working with three, in various contexts:

​What we’re doing right now is, using the story scripts created last year, developing concept art for the main character(s) of the story. This is a pretty typical process—I don’t mean to make a “big whoop” out of it; in perspective, if we were developing a motion picture and in a major studio, this would probably take a matter of a couple of weeks, as opposed to the near year-long process we went through figuring out the basics. Still, I’m very excited about the progress we made learning to do this from scratch and am looking forward to when we can share some of what came out of this process with you. We’re not exactly sure how that’s going to happen, but will be sending out blasts and updates accordingly.
 
I’m beyond stoked about this project. It’s a story that gets me jazzed every time I work on it, and I hope you will enjoy these characters and this universe as much as we do. We’ll be keeping you posted. In the meantime, do check out and spread the word of the websites of the artists listed; there’s some wonderful art there and we’re happy to help provide some exposure any way we can (we’ll post other links as we establish professional relationships ongoing enough so as to be considered collaborative). 

​From 2015 one main idea emerged regarding the AFO, which was to create a larger squad—all of whom would be familiar with the same set of core AF material via a set of precisely notated scores—from which could be drawn rosters of various size and combination, depending on what a particular performance demanded.
 
Sounds simple enough ;)
 
In many ways it was. It some ways it wasn’t. Though, I’ve already started to forget those instances that made up the latter. Some things work out, some things don’t; what matters—at least so far as I currently understand—is to keep moving forward. We set out with this goal of building a master squad of talented and like-minded musicians at the beginning of the year, tapping into every source, every contact we thought we knew we had, cold-calling at times, reaching out every which way to see who’d call back, who might be interested in helping bring this music to life in this unconventional way. We'd hoped by starting early, in view of the myriad other projects waiting in the wings, that we might be done by the end of the first quarter. 
 
It took until early December, which might have been predictable. Still: we did it. We found, at least for now—and by that I mean that schedules are precarious things, especially for musicians, a wonderful cadre of artists willing and able (and in some cases, it seems, genuinely pleased) to work together in this way, focusing primarily on development, and reading and learning with great accuracy, deliberately and precisely notated scores.
 
This year’s primary starters, dubbed “Delta Squad," saw the culmination of their efforts at this year’s showcase event, this time a performance at the Lilypad, in Cambridge MA. We look forward to continuing to build the squad, and to bringing newer members up to speed, in the new year. Notation continues to be an important part of the process, and will continue to be so in 2017; the capable hands of Ray Tarantola and his able team now man the music preparation console.
 
The AFO does have its own page on this site, but here is the current complete squad list as of the date of this writing. Please do check out their websites (as usual, orange type means a link); this really is a group of "heavy hitters" (as Steve Latanision recently put it), solid folks with whom it is truly a privilege to make great music. Onward!

And this year's production superstars: 

​I’m aiming to talk about these more at the start of next year, but I’ve been so excited about them that I wanted to share in a sort of preview fashion. 

The first of the new projects technically already exists, in the form of a mostly unknown website and a bit of social media. So, I suppose, for those diehards among you, the term SymGastro may not come as new information. SymGastro, from the original “Symphonie Gastronomique” (yes, it is a play on Berlioz because I am just that much of a #nerd) which was an annual recipe book Elizabeth and I gave out to loved ones during the holiday season. The web presence isn’t much now, but our goal is to convert it into a bona fide hub for our “foodie adventures:” anything from recipes we adore to awesome products we might come across, to who knows what? We look forward to you joining us on this growing adventure. 

​The second new project, again, is not really new at all. This is an idea we’ve had for years, since the first time we put an ugly sweater on our dog and pressed click on the camera (it was an actual camera, and the sweater was not ugly so much as two sizes too tight). The amount of joy we derived from that image—admittedly at her expense, but I believe she’s forgiven us—cemented my already solid understanding that dogs are natural anti-depressants and that both the blues and the reds (take that as you will) can be warded off by even the most benign images of their merry antics. So basically, a photoblog with pictures of our four dogs (Australian Shepherds, who come with the motto: What, there's no official weirdest animal on the planet? Challenge accepted!)

​We’re currently doing very serious round table brainstorm-thinktanking on all of this, involving (as it should) no subtle amount of good cheese and prosecco. We’ll be posting more in the new year when things become more clear, or we become less befuddled, whatever comes last. Therein ends the update :)

​Big drama indeed. In the end the “hunch” proved to be more or less correct. It was the moments we fully engaged and focused on who we were and the direct impact we were having that we saw most success; conversely, the moments we slipped into reactive commentator mode were the ones that yielded the least. Challenges and demons surfaced regardless; it seems not to have mattered so much how were we feeling as it did our willingness to face these obstacles and be decisive in our action in response to them.
 
I saw a headline recently that read: “Slouching Towards 2017.” Clever… is I’m sure what the writer would like me to think. But no. Sorry. #Fail. That is no more incisive political satire than it is the choice I am making in the dying embers of a year that has been a whirlwind dynamo of epic proportions. I shall make like Le Bon (that’s not a misspelling) and “dance into the fire” that at times threatens to engulf me. For I cannot fear the fire. Because I am the fire. I am the sun that lights the world of my being. I do not fear what is me all along.
 
And, for anyone who might find my $0.02 helpful, let me make this recommendation. Ignore them, those armchair reactionary commentators. Instead: go, make your decisions, live by your conscience, grab your life by the lapels and take this opportunity to make it the most beautiful adventure you can. If you’re mad as hell and don’t want to take it anymore, go do something to make your life better; chances are the opportunity exists.
 
I don’t go to war with people or things—it doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense to me—but I know when I no longer have time for something, when something has served its purpose and needs to be gone from my consciousness. So I say goodbye to these people, these armchair reactionary commentators, so self-righteous in their cynicism who, just because the world didn’t live up to their every expectation, decide they’re entitled to stop trying, to stop getting up every morning and saying I am here, and I am willing to do my best, and who then demand that their opinion and approach be force fed to the point that it clogs the mindspace of others, who are actually trying, who do do their best, day in day out, and who might need a little pep, a little affirmation for the hard and noble work that they do despite whatever challenges and fears they might be facing.
 
So to those cynics, and on behalf of anyone who would wish me to speak as such, I say this: We understand where you are coming from. We understand you have frustrations, and that you have emotions and feelings that you feel. And we have compassion for you. And also, your voice is more destructive than you realize, more destructive, in fact, than all the happenstances about which you bemoan over your cups of hipster coffee, because nothing comes so close to extinguishing the human spirit as do cynicism and complacency. So please, kindly take both a step back from the edge as well as a deep breath, and let me direct you to a quiet corner of the room, where you can feel free to go fuck yourself. 

​On that note, let’s give ‘em hell next year. Who? No, not the cynics. They have their orders and I don’t really care to go to that corner of the room until I figure out who’s on custodial duty. I’m saying things like fear and doubt: let’s show ‘em who’s boss, and conversely, let’s take those dreams and positive intentions and show them that we care, and that we mean business. No more “Om,” now we drive it home. Let’s get up and shout at the top of our lungs that we are here, whatever it is that we are and want to be and want to achieve, and what impact we want to have on the world, and all that glorious stuff that fills our lives with meaning. Then, let’s, together, pick up that pen, or tablet, or keyboard, and one step at a time, make it real.
 
And if it sucks for the first decade…
 
You’re on the right path. 

I believe in you.

​-AF

---Title Inspiration: Watershed (Saliers/Ray), Indigo Girls---

                                                                      Enjoy! -AF

It was like this all year. 

​I felt like my idiocy knew no bounds. And yet still there I was, there BlueDorian was, persisting. But at some point, the voices, they started up again: Okay. I love you, you’re perfect, now change and go back to something safer. Be quieter. Stop believing you have something positive and worthwhile to offer to the world. Be what you were taught to be by your schools, your family: a small, quiet, obedient child-person. There is a “Chinese” (a hideously vague word when referring to the language, I know; I think in this case, but can’t be sure that, it’s Cantonese) word I heard a lot growing up and into my young adulthood. The way I heard it it was pronounced “kwai” (as in the bridge over the river). Transliterations in Chinese are odious, especially given the numerous dialects—in Mandarin I believe it would be “gui” (pronounced like “grey,” if you were a member of the British Royal Family; I’m kidding, it’s “gway”). 

​This is what I learned. Why am I talking about this? How dare I say this? This culture of which you speak is ancient and wonderful. This is slander.  Nah. It’s the rantings of one human being, who frankly you could easily write off as not being entirely there in the head. Hey, this guy has bipolar disorder, maybe he’s just having one of those episodes they talked about in that musical I saw on Broadway once; that was accurate, right? Right?! Yeah, exactly, it’s that. So don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, capisci? (<- actual spelling)

​And, yes, ancient cultures are fascinating, but I’m not talking about ancient cultures. I’m talking about static belief systems that seek to keep people in their place by the systematic suppression of their creativity. Go fish. ​

​Give up. Give up. Give up. You are small. What you’re doing will never be worthwhile. You will never be as big as we. We recruit people and make them ours and we own them. They become our servants, do our bidding, and their toil becomes our success. You will fail. You are a bad apple. A black sheep. And you are certainly not kwai. So those voices say. And before, it was the old compass that would guide me: Don’t worry about them, it would say. Be on your path, it would say. Not there now. I remember a lyric from a show I obsessed about as a young adult: “I raise my eyes to see the heavens, but only the moon looks down.” So it seems. And so as one more madman barks at the moon, the realization, this terrifying realization, starts to occur to me: you know what, maybe I'll just “be” the biggest fucking idiot I can be. Maybe I keep apologizing, keep being over-polite, keep dithering, keep worrying, keep doing every single one of those things, keep being laughed at for it all; anything, just don’t give up. ​

​As I mentioned, I’ve been this me before. He is laughed at, not taken seriously, is made a pariah by groups and communities of which he ostensibly is a part. He hates himself, is embarrassed by himself, doesn’t believe in his own ability to create and manifest anything worthwhile. He falls on his face time and again, and is mocked every time he does by people who claim to be his friends. I was this person on and off for the better part of thirty years, during the first thirty five of my life. I pried myself away from this hideous slave persona through sheer effort, force of will, and no small amount of help from at least one key person in my life who as far as I’m concerned is part angel. I do not want to go back. 

But to not go back is to choose from two options, neither of which I can now stomach. The first, as we’ve talked about, is to give up completely. Sell the farm. Or buy it, I suppose, in another manner of speaking. Just become small, as small small small as you can be. Hide from the world, hide from the universe, bury your head in the sand so much that you don’t notice when the weather changes. Then you stop feeling pain, you stop feeling anything. I’ve seen this. I know people who do this. And it’s tempting. But ultimately not for me.

The second option is a subtler, more pernicious version of the first one: to posture. Take all you feel and think and are aware of, any pain, any doubt… and go and do cross-fit until you are so buff they can’t help but think you’re hot. What? No, I’m not talking about personal alchemy, which is a beautiful process, but one that in my experience requires a compass; it’s when the compass is gone and you’re in the doldrums trying to rebuild it, that’s what I’m talking about.

​Posturing is something I’ve never been able to do. You know those people who run marathons and casually drop into conversation at the first chance they get the fact that they just ran the Reykjavik marathon or whatever? (A friend of mine claims it’s “all” marathon runners, but I’m willing to give some the benefit of the doubt) In any case: posturing. If I’m so buff, so hot, so hip, so cool, so able to run twenty-six-miles-and- change so many times, then I can pretend to the world, and thus, hopefully, myself, that there’s nothing bothering me, that I don’t have doubt, have fear, have moments when I want to fly to San Francisco just so the bridge I jump off can be a beautiful one.

Psych! This one is in Sydney (and, at the risk of being overly-macabre, not likely a fatal jump.) 

​I’m realizing as I’m writing this that this is as open as I’ve ever been in a blog post, probably more so by some stretch.

There is a chance this pattern may continue in future entries.

​I acknowledge that this type of open exploration may offend some people. It is what it is. It is certainly not my intention to do so. But I’ve offended so many people in my life for so many reasons, all of which stem from me simply being who I am:

• to many in my country of origin I am too international, which really means "too Western," whatever that means;
• to other muslims (my father is muslim so I am one by birth) I’m more or less reprehensible for about a dozen reasons (mostly the bacon, though);
• to certain British schoolchildren in the 90s I was foreign, and had, like the other “pakis,” as we were collectively called, the wrong color skin;
• to certain members of my own family it was my mixed heritage, including Malay and European, that made me an undesirable in one way or another; in one instance I was more or less ordered to "marry a good Chinese girl" so as to cleanse the bloodlines and "swing the genes" in the right direction. That's a direct quote, and I was twenty four and in a long-term relationship with my would-be (and very much not Chinese) wife. 

And this really is just the start. So I’m not sure if I’m super bothered by that kind of thing any more. Or rather, if it bothers you that I’m the way I am, you can feel free to carry that for yourself. 

​But more importantly: it’s okay. I’m not a victim. These are, for the most part, just stories; well, they’re true, but they’re in my past. In fact I realize all this judgment that came my way from others (and I haven’t even mentioned my parents lol) was just a mirror of all the judgment that I either was placing or would eventually place upon myself. Someone very recently pointed out to me that everyone thinks about how idiotic they are, only for some reason I seem to actually say it. It is true, I talk pretty openly, generally speaking, about the parts of my life that I’m working on, the parts I don’t prefer, and the parts I flat out can’t stand. I talk and I say I’m embarrassed and stupid when most would just pretend it never happened, whatever it was. I discuss. I analyze. I look for answers in my inner crazy. That’s just the idiot that I am. That’s the madness, the madness within.

And that might just be what makes me sane. 

Thanks for sticking with me :) -AF

Track #3 on the album “Magical Mystery Tour,” “Flying” is distinct, and wonderfully so, in the fact that the song is difficult to identify as a Beatles track, even by context and with deep knowledge of their style, without prior familiarity with the album and its listing. For those of you who haven’t yet had the pleasure, the song is a trippy instrumental jam composed together by all four members, following a basic 12-bar blues pattern, that builds with each head from bare-bones rock instrumentation to a multi-layered feast of retro analog sounds and strangely EQ-ed, vaguely choral vocalizations. 

To this listener it’s a fantastic track in its unexpectedness. I love and still can’t get over the fact that it just "doesn’t feel" like a Beatles song. Yes, I could get really nerdy and talk about little giveaway Beatle-y things like guitar tone, how the snare drum is being mic-ed, and the general Ringo-ness of the 8-beat that’s being played, but why? It’s fun, refreshing, and light; a sort of Beatles “back to basics” before launching into the belle melange of the next two albums (more on that later, perhaps): indeed well worth a listen. 

​I love this song. I’m just a total sucker for it. I think, though, or rather I’m realizing, that I might just be a sucker for that class of John Lennon songs. It seems to me that Lennon consciously used similar chord progressions—even ones he had developed that were unique enough that you’d recognize them if repeated—multiple times in order to explore specific emotional or narrative effects, or else to mimic specific styles. This particular “ilk” was (and I’m using my own term now) the “vi-I” riff, i.e. the “6 minor to 1 major” riff, which may be of no more help, I realize. This song’s opening riff is something of a twin to an earlier counterpart called “It Won’t Be Long” (another good lesser known song, just not on the list). The way the two move from 6 minor to 1 major in their respective openings is evocative of each other, using this characteristic, and fairly unique, harmonic device.

But enough nerding out. There’s just some great stuff going on here. This is for sure worth many listens, as it grows with time and as details become more clear and obvious with repeated exposure. John and Paul trading riffs on the choruses is a first standout moment; ostensibly done because the second half of the melody was out of John’s vocal range, but the effect ends up feeling much more profound, reminding the listener (as least, certainly, this one) that this is a group with a powerful vocal bench, not constrained to one lead singer or one set of timbres. In the early days, John and Paul often sang together, in both harmony and unison, on the lead lines (She Loves You; Please Please Me etc.); by now this was less of a signature feature, so this moment stands out as a cool demonstration of their growing vocal individuality while still presenting them effectively together. 

The orchestration work is brilliant too for an early pop tune that wouldn’t have required it, with some fantastic bridge riff work doubling piano and 12-string guitar, devised by George Martin, and executed by McCartney and George Harrison. It’s just a super team effort, which stands to reason given its appearance on without a doubt the strongest Beatles album of the early era: “A Hard Days Night,” which might also explain why the track sometimes has a tough time standing out against the iconic powerhouses that surround it (A Hard Day’s Night; Ticket to Ride etc.). But underestimate this track at your peril. It’s jolly good craic and highly recommended by this fab four nut. 

Another selection from Magical Mystery Tour, Baby You’re a Rich Man is another oddball track that might be difficult for the casual or recently initiated listener to identify as a Beatles tune, though its recent inclusion in the film “The Social Network” might have increased its range of exposure beyond die hard Beatle fans. The song itself is an interesting animal, a portmanteau sort of thing, mashing together two snippets: John’s “one of the beautiful people” riff with Paul’s “Baby, you’re a rich man” chorus idea. They don’t really cohere super well, but that, to me, is the charm of the song. It’s very much the opposite of Flying, instead providing a window, a sneak peek into what lies in store when works like “The Beatles” (aka the White Album) and especially “Yellow Submarine” stylistically take full root. 

I’ve always just found this song super cool. The psychedelic vibe that’s almost over-conscious in its application just feels like an overindulgence of singular flavor, but in the right way, like one of those death-by-chocolate cakes, covered in more molten chocolate. I’ll take it. The song just sort of spins itself slowly into oblivion, similar in ways to something like “Tomorrow Never Knows” (ridiculously awesome song: too well known to be on this list) but with a little less to prove. That might in fact be the key to what speaks to me in this song, a certain lack of concern that I aspire to. And finally, one word: Ringo. Just take it in and feel the love. Incredible performance, similar—and this is apparently an opinion Beatles expert Ian McDonald and I share—to his unparalled rocking out on “Rain” (again, great song; maybe too well known at this point for this list). Have fun with this one!  ​

It’s funny; I just noticed the lack of George Harrison songs on this list, which seems odd given any list of "my favorite Beatles tracks" I seem to make have always included a "Harrisong" in the top five. Though that might be it, I realize in this moment. George went very quickly from underdog writer-in-training, to sitar-enthusiast-transcendental-world-music composer, to master of the near instant and bound to be ubiquitous hit: his later portfolio littered with household-name songs like Something and Here Comes the Sun etc. There's a decent chance even any future unseen hit lists that I create may struggle to include his work. Ah well. Too many good and famous songs? Not a bad problem to have :) 

Happy Holidays :) -AF

​Hi. It’s me again. 
​
And I’m not talking about those crazies, you know, the ones that seem to have swept up the world, again, over the last few years; I’m referring to that insanity that’s happily within and handy: the “madness” inside.

A little decaf perhaps...

​​I am an “idiot.” I am weird, and I do not fit in. I know this. I thought I knew how things operated, but moreover I thought that by now I had enough of an inkling as to the inner workings of change, that I’d be able to ride out any energetic shifts the world might throw at me with relative ease. We all know at this point how it seemed that a new set of “life guidelines” took over round about the end of 2012. But this year it feels as though that event has happened again, but rather than discretely, this time it occurs in continuous fashion. It’s the sort of exponential acceleration that, to me, feels like, what I imagine the shift from warp one to warp two must theoretically feel like. Perhaps in retrospect it will seem simple, but for now, the results of dealing with these shifts have been both fascinating and unnerving.

Steady as she goes... Weeeeeeee...

Through this I find myself reverting to an old state, one that, I’ll be honest with you, I truly hate. It’s the nervous, unsure me, the one who questions every decision, takes far too long to understand concepts, and waffles and dithers and does all those things I wish—I *thought*—I had left behind in the last emanation (#Voyager reference lol). The me who people make fun of for being over-polite, over-apologetic. The me who can barely rest outside his useless, fragmented mind long enough to run a simple two-hour rehearsal, only to return to it again and be at half-efficiency for the remainder of the day, if that. It gets to the point where I’ve considered massive and potentially destructive shifts this year, just to get out of the unbearable me-ness of it all. Please stop the bus: the driver is an idiot. I’ve considered strategies that would be career-ending (which is not I suppose much of a threat when you’re self-employed, but for those of you who know my commitment to the mission will get the implications of this), marriage-ending, life-ending even. And it’s when vehicular suicide once again starts looking more appealing than folding your laundry, that you really do begin to question certain things.

​I write this and I share it and maybe you’re uncomfortable. I do it because, well, it’s my damn blog, but also I would vouch that by now we have an elegant sufficiency of “top five times Chris Pratt showed us his bum” (or such like) articles. Not that I don’t like “top five” posts and I have little to no opinion on Mr. Pratt’s behind; in fact it (the former, to be clear) gives me an idea for a future entry. But for now, the terminally hilarious misadventures of this clinically depressed oddball continue with this thought:
​
Oh fuck.
​

Whaaa...?!

Why are we back here? We were doing so well. And, again, I assure you I’m not giving some sort of editorial on what’s going on in the world, though I might understand if some (not all) of you thought I was. To that end, I’m currently of the feeling that any sort of commentary on current events in this ever changing world in which we live in right now is probably above my paygrade, so I’m adopting more of an observer’s stance; a strange, “Good fortune, bad fortune, who knows?” kind of neutral clarity that seems to resonate right now, while I again work to sort out the morass that is my mind and do my best to do cool and worthwhile things. So, it’s funny. There’s ostensibly a crapload going on the outside world which doesn’t bother me, and seemingly nothing—to the casual observer at least—going on in my world, but it’s the latter what’s got me hung up.
​

Bizarro Gandhi for a bizarro world.

I’ve been working my way towards the center of my experience by first limiting, then eliminating, things like the “news” (such as it is), then doing the same for things like social media (#shamelessplug), from which I took a LONG break from February to arguably this present moment. With the barrage gone I find myself able to more fully focus on what’s happening, particularly what’s happening inside, and the main observation is that whatever compass I was using before as my primary guide-to-life has pretty much vanished. The resulting not knowing which way is up or down, south or north, is likely what explains the doubt and fear from which all other symptomatology stems (the apologetic-ness, the over-politeness, depression, etc.). But what is the result?

​You have a large energetic shift, the by-product of which for anyone paying attention (which I am told on good authority—Reader’s Digest—is more and more of us) is that old assumptions are no longer relevant, and that what might have been working perfectly well in your life, for your life, may in dramatic fashion turn out no longer to work at all. Depending on your personality you might: i) deal with it without a hitch (lucky you) or ii) collapse like a dying protostar into a black cluster of self-doubt, fear, and loathing.

Not I. I iz at one with the universe.

​Assuming the latter (because honestly, if the former, you probably spend most of your time in your home, giggling and thinking: dang it I’m SO happy!) what happens next? Because the loathing in itself is not the end goal; I’ve spent most of my life living with varying degrees of self-doubt, fear, and loathing, so what’s the big cheese here? What’s the outcome we’re looking to prevent? Simple: giving up.
​
This is the edge I’ve teetered on for almost this entire year. I have not felt so close to giving up all I care about creatively, professionally, and personally as I have this year. I can honestly say that. And I hope I never come this close again, and moreover I wish I could guarantee it, because it was, it is, awful. You’ve possibly read about the sense of both commitment and joy that I feel towards the mission of creativity and positivity that is BlueDorian. I started it twelve years ago, and it persists, still, at this point mostly self-funded and with a miniscule staff (I could use the word “both” and it would apply), and with very little by way of things like recognition or else validation. But it does persist, holding vigil as it shall, until we have the resources such that by our words and actions we make the stars align to our will. Yes, that BlueDorian. This year, for nearly all of the year, I have wanted to throw everything away, even to have it all physically destroyed, just to make the world make sense again, so great was the distance I needed to reconcile between what was and what is, so much I felt in need of guidance, of the old compass. 

"You gotta be effin kidding me."

​Oddly enough, I experienced my first momentary “uptick,” meaning it was a period of a few days when, for the first time in the year, I didn’t want to throw my creative studio into the compactor, and saw a glimmer of hope, in, of all times, early November, which was an interesting time to be in this part of the country and feeling celebratory :) but, hey, like I said: good fortune? bad fortune? who knows?

To be continued in Part 2...

---Title Inspiration: I Won't Last a Day Without You (Williams/Nichols), The Carpenters---

                                                                 Enjoy! -AF

I’ve been told that this year would have everything to do with power; that the world as a whole would grapple with the notion of what it means to have power or to be powerful. While I don’t believe everything I’m told, looking around, the evidence does seem to fit the theory. I actually find it a helpful explanation—and a strangely reassuring one at that—for the collective temper tantrum that seems to be being thrown by, one would surmise, every single one of the institutions of the world traditionally seen as emblems of external power. Going into detail doesn’t seem necessary, I’m sure you know of several if not many examples of such meltdowns and how they’re taking place; at the close of the year, looking forward into the next, I’m finding myself curious as to the why of it all. 

​My theory, and I don’t imagine this a particularly groundbreaking idea, is two-fold: firstly, that these institutions are simply part of an outdated system, made obsolete and being replaced by new ones (systems) taking its place. Understand I said new ones, not necessarily better ones, at least often times not initially. In the same way that, on the individual level, the millennial generation did away with a hefty bale of customs and conventions held dear and in place for fifty years by the baby boomers, so too is this happening on an institutional level by the upstart economic and political structures of the emerging post-2012 era. Unfortunately this breakdown sometimes involves no small amount of social devolution, but, as I’ve been told, and this time I believe it: there’s always a way up. 

​The question of whether these changes will be productive, and beneficial to us as a global society has, at least in the mind of this writer, much more to do with you and me than it has to do with any commander, preacher, or “make this country great”-chanting plutocrat, but more on that later. Another question, that of why this year was such a banner year for change in the form of both tragedy and moronic public behavior leads me to the second point, which is: it is possible some of the chaos we are seeing around us is the very grappling, on a macro-scale, of a world figuring itself out, going through a sort of pubescent process of defining what power means on a planetary level.
 
So, you might wonder as well you may, is this merely my long-winded way of saying: don’t worry, be happy? That we are merely bugs on a surface, caught in the wake of an immense moment of celestial transition, powerless to do anything about it? Well, I suppose letting go of anxiety and finding happiness are always good things, but really what I’m saying is the thing I’ve been saying to myself all year, which is: You matter. I matter. We all matter. We matter because, in the spirit of what this year is ostensibly about, we are the singular most powerful force on the planet. We are powerful because we are, all of us, creative beings. We can build and shape and sculpt our world, in our mind, ergo in reality, into any iteration of a planet inhabited by sentient beings that can possibly be imagined.
​

​​Through the sheer force of our will we can do this, plus a buttload of perseverance and effort, granted, but still, it can be done, if we submit that it happen. I was told as a child: man proposes, God disposes. This is a steaming pile of nonsense, and a great way to give up your power, to rationalize complacency, to relinquish your responsibility for creating your own reality, all under the guise of pretending to seem zen and at peace with the universe. Bullspit. I say: 1) intend an outcome, 2) align yourself, if you wish, with whatever non-midichlorian based cosmic intelligence you desire, and 3) MAKE IT SO. 

​You matter. Somewhere down the line, this message gets lost. We’re not told it enough in our lives. Because, I suppose, we as a society don’t believe it enough (at least not yet). At some point in most of our lives we’re told to forget this notion, that we are indeed worth it, that we matter. So what happens: people who have forgotten to know this become parents. These parents forget to tell it to their kids. Those kids forget to know it. And the cycle continues.
 
Meanwhile there’s another branch of people, who believe the world revolves around them. And so sure are they in this belief that they convince us to believe it too. And we end up spending a lot of money and time enabling those people--egoists, narcissists, sociopaths; the people who have basically run the world for the past ten thousand years, maybe more--instead of nurturing our awesomeness within. These types have no truer sense of their worth than we do. Theirs is the previous definition of power, power as stature, influence derived through force or the threat of it: might makes right, as some say. And not only do they seek it, but oftentimes they get it, because in a world whose primary curriculum is that of inferiority, even stolen light can shine. 

​In many ways we’re the lucky ones. Those types seek power from without, because they feel powerless within. In addition, so caught up are they in their own drama, I would posit they can’t see the actual important work they are doing, which is to expressly, by their actions, pose the big questions for us, you and me, to answer. When we see an idiot at a podium spouting bigoted vitriol, we are each given a valuable opportunity, to decide whether this is behavior that works for us, to decide whether we as individuals carry on with this or make a change. People drink the sand because they don’t know the difference, I’ve heard. But this isn’t the way anymore. It certainly doesn’t have to be. And the best part is, this is not about “taking back” anything. There is no conflict involved. Only personal responsibility. Only the simple act of seeing the light inside, and stepping in.

Previously on the Adam Farouk Blog...

MADDIE: How could you, David, how could you?!
DAVID: I have no idea what's going on. 
MADDIE: Of course you'd say that. That's such a typically "you" thing to say!
DAVID: Wait, why do these names sound so familiar?
MADDIE: You mean you've never watched "Moonlighting"?
DAVID: What?! What the hell is going on?
ANGUS: (v.o.) Now this all brings me back to the time my Uncle Harry said...
MADDIE: Back off you, you're not on 'til tomorrow. And since when do you go by Angus?
SCARECROW: How 'bout me? 
(pause) 
MADDIE: You can stay. 
DAVID: Oh, sure, he can stay! Mister shiny teeth and chiseled jaw. He fights for the users, you know--I can only imagine what that means, AND he has anger management issues. (beat) Just making sure you're all aware of that. 
SCARECROW: That last one was a one-time thing, three Christmases ago, and I more than made amends. Seriously, trust you to bring that up!
MULDER: Trust. No one. 
DAVID: That's it, I'm outta here. Frickin' asteroid's not gonna blow up itself... 
<slam>
(a moment)
MADDIE: He's gone. You can come out now. 
GRUBER: Much obliged. Hey, check out this potion Angus and I just made. 

*Ahem* Yeah, so this little deep-tracks stream of consciousness cold-open got way more meta than I thought it was going to. I hope my sister and the maybe two other people who get all the references enjoyed it :)

Alright, the recap probably ain’t gonna work. If you could use a refresher, link to here to check out Part 1. Otherwise, let’s jump in. As mentioned, my sense of fullness and gratitude for this year, despite its turmoil without and ups and downs within, has come in no small part from being engaged in two wonderful creative initiatives, both of whom have at last seen some significant and welcome development, enough such that it feels pertinent to share with you here. 

The AFO

After 2014’s succesful showcase event, the group officially dissolved, as it does every year (we’re like Parliament, except for funner). Upon reforming in early Spring, the overall starting formation saw a switch to a yet more focused lineup, with a trio core, specifically two guitars and a bass, supplied by myself, Elizabeth Lorrey, and Tom Appleman, respectively. Rehearsals this year focused mainly on distilling vocal harmony content, while also solidifying arrangements down to the tee. Precision drills for breaks, accents, and stop-holds became paramount, and it’s a wonder as well as a testament to their musicianship and professionalism that Tom and Elizabeth managed to stay sane during the six-month-long barrage of new information, rehearsal after rehearsal, while loose arrangements were slowly turned into precise ones.
 
The season culminated in a number of small performances, and, once again, a larger, themed showcase event. What also evolved, in paradigm as well as practice, was the resultant idea of considering the group as a larger squad, with a smaller and variable starting lineup. With the model we’re using when it comes to collaborating, and the current landscape that exists for professional musicians in an urban center such as Boston, assembling a talent squad with build-in redundancies seems a logical strategy. Up until now we’ve reformed the group from scratch at the beginning of each year, with the size and makeup depending on the needs of the theme. Moving forward, we’re looking to remain in touch with and build an ongoing, and hopefully, ever-growing, squad of potential player collaborators, and, once the theme of the ensemble is in place, pull the starting lineup as per the needs of the individual performance.
 
Complementing that will have to be a precise set of written arrangements, which I have started working on, currently discussing strategy and details with the very talented composer, arranger, and music preparer-to-the-stars Jeremy Borum, compiling parts from various performances and demos, and even pre-mixes of tracks I am currently developing for release. Going against the grain of the rock-band style of “figure/hammer it out during extensive rehearsals aka who needs a plan when you’ve got rock n roll” this is in part a necessity due to the fact that all our players and vocalists are treated as consultants and thus are paid for all their time. The appreciation for efficiency aside, the consistency derived by having the entire ensemble and its leader be able to point to a definitive master chart, detailing parts sometimes to the note, is to me an invaluable asset and well worth the time it is already taking to put together. In ways, we’re borrowing and cross-pollinating from a combination of the traditional european classical orchestra or chorus, the jazz ensemble, the soccer team, and, finally, the pop-rock band. I would that we invent a new genre: intellipop, but that might be a little premature. We’ll see how this goes.

The AFO 2015 starting lineup: Elizabeth Lorrey, Tom Appleman. Squad has included: Mike Levesque, Steve Latanision, Boyan Hristov, Jazz Robertson, Raleigh Green. “Directions” showcase credits: Andrew Goldin (guest vocalist), Greg Pratt (guest vocalist); Tim Reppert (sound); Chris DeSanty, Seth Wood (video); Elizabeth Geuss (producer); JamSpot, Somerville MA (location).

​So that’s that. It’s easy to find a year like this confusing or confounding or both. Many times, I’ve done so, banging my figurative (or sometimes literal) hands against the desk, going: Why, humanity? Why can’t we figure it out? What do I have to do? And that’s exactly it, or so I’m understanding right now in this moment. I simply have to do what I have to do. Or, I have to do what I’m here to do. But the overall message I’m getting is: I have to, I’m going to... DO IT! (Jeez, Shia, give me a warning next time!) We all have to. And by doing so, the world becomes what it will become. Not in some bullshit hip-yo, spiritual laissez-faire kind of way, but by immense, passionate, relentless doing. Thus we create the world we see.
 
And it’s this that gives me that sense of fullness. I can’t say whether it’s right, or wrong, or anything like that. But it makes sense to me, right now, in this moment. And for that, I am grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to keep pushing myself, to keep pressing beyond the boundaries of what I believe I can do, to keep building off every moment, to keep moving forward and doing the things I love, grateful for the opportunity to always be growing and evolving and enriching who it is that I am, grateful that I might keep working tirelessly to create the brighter world I see inside me.
 
There’s a light at the end of one of these tunnels. How do I know? I don’t. But next year we’ll take another step. I hope we can take it together. There are some wonderful initiatives that we’ll be either starting up or taking to the next level. We’re putting in place ways to connect, ways to spread the word to others and grow the community, ways to help support this work so as to bring into being music, art, and stories that are as encouraging as they are entertaining, as illuminating as they are diverting. Let’s connect and work together, not merely to change the world, but to create it, as luminous and radiant as our hearts can imagine. I believe we can make this happen. I believe if anybody can, we can. 

​I read a blog article about how to make your blog articles more widely read. Which is pretty hilarious now that I think about it (though the real question is: is it ironic?). But one of the main points was that those who blog would do well to promote what they write aggressively, via social media etc. I’ll be honest with you: I rarely feel comfortable doing that. In fact, truth is sometimes I feel as though I might need to apologize about my posts (as illogical as this sounds). Why? Well, because unlike a lot of other blogs out there, I don’t have tips or techniques or great advice to offer. I don’t have ways and means that are guaranteed to make your life better. What I do have is my life experiences, and they’re not always pretty. 

​I started writing as a means to curate my process both as an artist and a person. And I knew, going into that, that I would inevitably find myself passing through territory that would be unpleasant, sometimes downright horrible, especially anything involving working through past trauma, or other phyiscal, mental, or emotional difficulty. I wanted to adopt an approach based on honesty; I grew up around too many people who lied about too many things for it to feel good to follow in their shoes. I also wanted never to forget how much I have to learn. These two things are still things that I value, and they combine to make it difficult to play the role of sagacious advice-giver or glorified self-promoter. 

​So there we go. Blogger is as blogger does. I would that these provide, to all of you who do read them, at least some insight into one human being’s sometimes-joyful-oftentimes-messy process. And that perhaps that insight will find a way to illuminate something in you, or else provide you some catharsis in some way. That is what I have always intended, and what I recommit to now. I think there’s a space for blogs that do this, that don’t derive their value solely, or at all, through telling others how smart they themselves are, or how and why those others “should” be more like them. I’m not certain, but for now it’s feels as good a heading as any other.

Well. Maybe one day I’ll change my tune. Maybe one day I’ll have healed all that needs to be healed and thusly start offering brilliant advice on how to be the perfect human being #chuckle. Or maybe (more likely) I’ll find myself starting a sub-blog, guidance-based and supplementary to this one, when I feel I’ve sufficiently collated all the bits of knowledge about music, story, and other random things, that I’ve accumulated over these years. Come to think of it, that doesn't sound like a half-bad idea. 
 
And maybe it’ll be helpful. Who knows? :)

---Title Inspiration: Something's Coming (Bernstein/Sondheim), from West Side Story---

                                                                         Enjoy! -AF

I’ve scarce felt more thankful than I do now; with each breath my heart swells with a sense of deep gratitude. But for what, and for what reason? The world outside moves in strange ways right now, sometimes hopeful but more often violent and tragic. Within, my mind this year decides to act out with unrelenting frequency, in tantrums equally violent, such that for much of the year I have steered well clear of blogging and social media for fear that I might inadvertently renege on my commitment to positive posting. 

On the subject of the webosphere, this is not to mean that everything has to be wine and roses all the time, but I have found myself adopting an attitude of judiciousness about blogs, tweets, and other such posts: to be aware of when I’m, say, recounting a difficult but truthful story about a challenging aspect of my life, as opposed to when I’m just airing my dirty laundry; to know the difference, and, to quote the old templar: to choose wisely. But, returning to the point, neither circumstances within nor those without are things I can point to to explain this immense sense of fullness and gratitude I feel throughout. This is what befuddles me as summer turns to fall. 

In a seemingly unrelated occurrence, a thing I have identified as a “culture of doing” seems to have snuck its way into my pantheon of empowered habits, which, by the way, are those things I aspire to be every moment of every day, but am happy if I manage even ten seconds a week of being even but one of them. It’s not that I wasn’t getting stuff done before. But getting stuff done and doing things, I’m finding, are a little different. Past years I was often so busy getting stuff done, you know, stuff that “mattered” and was “important” etc., that I wasn’t doing the actual things the time for which the getting stuff done was supposed to free up. So the switch was nice—I’ll talk more on it later—and I highly recommend it to anyone. In fact, I can recommend a wonderful TED Talk on the subject, which I’ll link to here: 

But seriously...

I used to run with yoga circles a bunch (more on that another time, although given the aforesaid commitment to positive posting, I might skip the subject altogether) and there was a lot of knocking the idea of doing. “No, bra (I’m taking liberties, but not really) life is about, y’know, be-ing-ness. All these ants just doing doing doing, just decadent capitalist western society, that’s not reality! You just gotta be!” (At this point I’ve conflated a few different personalities, but hopefully you get the general idea.) Now, in response, I believe it was Francis Albert “Frank” Sinatra who said it best, during his now famous recitation of Zen philosophy: do be do be do. That is, a subtle back and forth between two states, not so much balance or moderation as many of your hip-yo types would have you feel guilty for constantly failing to achieve, as a dynamic equilibrium. Moving between states of doing and states of being, sometimes intensely so. Incidentally, for the record, I do still practice asana and all them other limbs because yoga is awesome; I just gave up running with the circles, because, well... you know? 

Back to doing. Actually this segues nicely into another thing I’ve been wanting to share for a while, which is: exactly what the hell have I been up to for the past nine months? Or so you ask, as well you may. As I said earlier, I am feeling, inexplicably perhaps, a sense of great fullness; I’m honestly super excited to talk news so I’ll do my best not to gush. The year so far has been defined by two initiatives, and those two initiatives have been: John Oliver, and the US Women’s National Soccer Team. I’m kidding; obviously I had little to nothing to do with the success of either this year, though they've both been handy, entertaining, and in one case, inspiring friends to have around this year. 

Truthfully though there’s plenty to tell, with new developments and possibly a spoiler or two, though as the hour draws late I’m sensing this part at least has reached its natural cadence. I hope you’ll join me next time for Part 2, when I’ll look forward to diving in together. See you then!     

In the meantime: 

This has been one of the toughest years I have experienced to date. And also, somehow, it has been one of the most fulfilling, and one of the happiest. It is possible this is all part and parcel of the process of retaking my life. January was a month-long wakeup from a decades-long stupor, realizing that all the things I thought I was were actually lies, that I had concocted to keep myself trapped in a system of thought wherein I could never gain enough momentum to find my potential, let alone shoot for it, let alone achieve it. 

For so long I thought I was wrong. Simply put together badly, incorrectly. And somehow, in this light, the best recourse seemed to start again, just press the reset button, and, if you believe in that sort of thing, hope the chips fall better next time. Hey, it works in video games. Sometimes. But this sort of thinking was, again, against social codes of conduct, no matter where in the world you are. You don't feel depressed. You don't feel suicidal. You certainly don't feel depressed, suicidal, and murderously rageful at the same time, not unless you're a comic book character with a big clown-smile on your chalk-white face. If you're not that guy, then what you do is you suppress whatever you feel with witty banter and clever comments, and hope to fit in. You get a friend, or a girlfriend or boyfriend, maybe a string of them, heck maybe a string of them at the same time, and you hope to fit in. You do what they--whoever they are--tell you to do, and you hope to fit in. But in the end, all this stuff isn't you, so you end up feeling, and probably acting, like a fucking moron, and you hate yourself more for it. 

The tricky situation here is that it is often difficult to spot who is and who is not going through this, exactly because of the above situation described. I, for example, was peppy and outwardly positive enough that, on occasion, I had folks leaning on me for strength and direction, which, I should add, I was happy to attempt to give (it made me feel validated), but that I had absolutely zero capacity to provide in any way that was healthy for anyone in that situation, least of all me. Luckily I never figured out exactly how to press that reset button, or maybe I just never decided on the method in time, and thankfully, the keen eyes of an attuned, empathic, and self-aware human being got to me before I could do anything idiotic. 

Meds have been an interesting kettle of fish. I stopped writing blogs mid-year, for a number of reasons, some creative and happy (more on that later), but the other was for time spent just needing to keep track of how things were progressing medically. After a near scare with lithium toxicity towards the end of the year ("So, my hands aren't supposed to be numb all the time, then?"), which incidentally, is nasty if and when it happens, things have leveled off to a good equilibrium. I'm still getting used to the ongoing periodic blood tests. You know, if I'm being honest, I always thought myself above the healthcare system, so this is perhaps a good ego check (you can't yoga or exercise your way through everything), and I can't but feel blessed and thankful, for so much. The weird thing, though, about all this is that, well, lithium toxicity is, as mentioned, nasty. In fact, with a large enough dose, lithium is fatal. My medication, it seems, that which facilitates my reemergence into the world with a greater sense of capability and self-command, is also a poison. It is chilling to me that that which would, in the past, have been a means to the reset button that I longed for, has become a different sort of liberator, one of the gift of healing, rather than harm; light, rather than darkness. 

Well, enough about that. The past and present are moving further apart for me, and that is a blessing. The one thing that still plagues is what apparently are called "intrusive thoughts." Now, this makes it seem pretty harmless. Unfortunately, as always... For me it's been visions, uncontrollable, of violent and painful self-harm. That's about as far as I'll go in terms of detail, so don't worry. The challenge is that these thoughts can be triggered by anything. I'm making toast, I'm driving down a one-way street.  Then all of a sudden, bang, one such thought-stream occurs. It's unpleasant, yeah, and, if driving, dangerous, but it is especially difficult when the imagery is so strong as to become debilitating. I tell you: not fun. If someone had told me this year I'd find myself doubled over on a daily basis, head in hands, unable to get up, practice, get any work done, because of incapacitating day-mares, I would have been very skeptical (I realize I'm paraphrasing here, for all you Mass Effect fans out there). Anyway, very interesting. It's basically taken months of what feels like Jedi-style mental practice  to create effective firewalls, shields, and a capable arsenal of tools and counter-images to allow me to basically just get up in the mornings and get shit done. But, the shit, as it's said, is getting done, so, and you'll hear me say this a bunch: I am thankful. 

So, if you see me twitch randomly in the middle of a conversation, now you'll know why :) 

Now, for those of you still here lol, onto the fun stuff. 

This year had seen something of a boom, creatively speaking. It makes sense. I haven't been spending all my time trying to keep rogue emotions and thoughts in check. It stands to reason it would allow for more time to be spent, I don't know, actually doing my job. Yay, doing my job. Anyway, so the major thing of awesomeness was the development of AFO (the Adam Farouk Orchestra, if we must). Those who were around last year will remember its re-debut after a few years of dormancy, with a roster comprised of some fantastic local musicians: Tim Reppert, Jeff Berlin, Raleigh Green, and Kelly Riley. This year, I reconceptualized a little but to emphasize guitars and voices, and moved to an ensemble that I haven't really seen much of around (no idea why, it's an awesome combo!), of three guitars, one bass, all musicians being vocalists, and no drums (which incidentally, is more of a challenge than I had anticipated, especially with rhythmically demanding music, and while everyone is singing in counterpoint, yeah seriously, wtf is wrong with me?!) 

But, as mentioned, this is a super fun concept, that warrants some developing, so we'll likely be building on this in the coming year. I'm tempted to add keyboards and drums, just because I love the big sound, but there's a lovely purity about this setup; we'll see. We were fortunate enough to be able to video and record our last rehearsal of 2014 (December 6th), and so far initial soundbites sound great, and we're looking forward to checking out footage next. Keep an eye out for clips of this on youtube (and elsewhere) sometime this year! 

The AFO 2014 roster included at various points: Elizabeth Lorrey, Tom Appleman, Nate Leavitt, Tim Reppert, and Raleigh Green. Live-jam credits: Tim Reppert (sound); Chris DeSanty, Seth Wood (video), Elizabeth Geuss, Andrew Goldin (production), The Inner Space, Brookline MA (location). 

Finally, last but not least, I got back into the writing chair big time this past year. Really, it was like I caught a fever, and the only cure was more cow-bell. Except I couldn't find a cow-bell, so I started writing, and that worked pretty good. The first half of the year was spent redelving (#mymadeupword.com) into Heart, Music, Rhythm, Soul, specifically, repurposing it as a series, fleshing out the characters, and finding a new sense of purpose in a story that's been near to my heart for over a decade, since the original States of Matter went into production for the very first time, all those years ago. Look out for more news on this project next year (2015). But the biggest news has to be the genesis of an entirely new project line. It's spanking new, so there's not that much to share, and in any case I'll be sparing, given just how mutable details tend to be at this stage of the game. What I do know is that it will be a Faerworld story (i.e. fantasy); its working title is Daughters of Time; and it will follow the adventures of a team of four super-powered heroes, as they journey down that treacherous path that is self-discovery, while fighting against incalculable odds to stop unstoppable foes from destroying the world. I'm looking forward to this one. My Joss Whedon-roots are showing here as well lol. I've been feeling moved to do a story with a strong all-female team for a while, and I am definitely buoyed up, even at this early stage, by working on this project. Definitely keep a look out for news on this one! And if you don't see or hear anything, feel free to bug me :)

So. We made it. This has been a year to survive, but also a year in which to thrive, and to celebrate, whether in joy or defiance; but either way, to stand up, or leap in the air, or simply raise your arms, and declare, I am the light. No darkness shall stand in my way. I will shine all that I am, across the universe, over and throughout this world where I dwell, and I will be me, and I will be heard, and together we will sing the song of victory. Happy 2015. 

Thanks for sticking with me. Travel safe, and talk soon. 

-AF

Why? 

Darned if I know. Perhaps I am simply too dumb to quit.

A few years ago, I came up with a vision to create an independent creative arts company. Sounds impressive? Hardly. Back then, all I had was a name for a company; as for what it did, I had no idea. In fact, even today I still struggle with exactly what to call BlueDorian, because I’m still not exactly sure what it is, or more appropriately, where its edge lies. What today is BlueDorian Media Entertainment was for a long time the record label BlueDorian Music, and before that, BlueDorian Productions, the producer of live concert events. Things keep shifting, alighting for a brief moment, then taking flight again. And for some reason that I cannot rationalize, I listen to those muses: I follow the sun.

Well, perhaps there is a fear-trigger in the air right now, because I am remembering, with painful clarity, how this is exactly the sort of behavior that I was admonished for for most of my young creative life: “Oh, Adam, you always over-think things!” “What’s wrong with you? You’re always shifting around!” I learned to resent my fluidity, and to feel as though there were something inherently wrong with my process. 

In some ways as a result of all of this, I spent a good deal of time in my youth desperately trying to fit in, to belong to institutions, to be part of “it” clubs, believing that in order for me to survive, succeed, and—so I believed—find creative fulfillment, I would need their seal of approval, their commendation. My early attempts were mostly unsuccessful. But eventually I started to understand what I needed to do, what I needed to believe, to make it in the system. 

I came across a number of different institutions. In all cases, what they asked of me was that I buy into their method, their tried and true approach, forsaking my own. In a general sense they all seemed to imply that to succeed I needed to boxcar myself, to compartmentalize, that I was to consider myself: “musician;” or perhaps, “composer;” or, at a stretch, “recording artist,” but whatever I was classed as, there was no switching, leaving the boxcar, and I should always know my place. If I absolutely must, I could write lyrics and call myself a “singer-songwriter,” but really, it’s preferable to leave that job to the “real” lyricists. And don’t write stories, that’s for people called playwrights and novelists, bookwriters, and screenwriters. And don’t even think about anything further than that. Yeah, all those video games and comic book concepts that you have swimming around your noggin? Forget those. Know your limits. Know your place.

And so I bought into that way of thinking, hoping it would get me in with the cool kids. And funnily enough, eventually, this behavior was validated. I put myself in a box for enough time, and was finally rewarded for it. And the system, having finally accepted me, took me to swirling heights of achievement. It was a thrilling, swashbuckling—if brief—tale of excitement and rockstardom that padded my ego and wrecked havoc on my mental and physical wellbeing. I was able to wake up, fortunately, before things got too out of hand. 

Which brings me back to BlueDorian. Being capable of choosing the full expression of my Creative Self—weird, nerdy, epic, cross-platform, out-of-the-box, take your pick—over the expedience of what is expected of me has required that I become aware not so much of my limits or my place, but of my experience. And in each moment, my experience is that both my limits and my place are extremely mutable. They shift constantly. Every time I think I know the scope of what I can do, it changes. Sometimes it increases, sometimes it decreases. I never know where it is I am, other than right here. 

So how am I supposed to know my place, at least in the way dictated by those institutions and their criteria? Know my limits? Sorry, I can’t. Not anymore. Or perhaps I lack to capacity to. So then I think to myself, heck, maybe that’s the reason I don’t quit. No, not because I’m so courageous, so visionary, so belief-filled, but because I’m just too oblivious to do otherwise. What is it? What is it that keeps me going? Foolhardiness? Persistence? I’m reminded of the comic book character Hal Jordan (a.k.a. Green Lantern), who in one particular story is asked: Why don’t you ever give up? 

To which he replies, with characteristic defiance: I don’t know how! 

Yes, it would be glamorous to adopt that as my own raison de faire.  But that too would be a lie. I’ll be honest with you. I know how to give up. There are many days I want to give up. I want to give up right now. I’m tired as hell and my allergies are acting up and it’s one of those days when the meds aren’t really taking hold. I see so many obstacles, so many reasons I can think of not to carry on. Add to that many people I see around me, who themselves seem to believe as fact all the fears I do my best to face and work through every day: that there are no true empowered people—that the only way to succeed is to ally yourself with someone who has a “position of power,” hang onto their coat-tails and hope that they bestow some of that “power” upon you; that independents are destined for struggle or failure because the system will always beat you down; that, sure, people start off with emboldened vision, but always end up cynical cogs in the machine of acquisition.

So much of this way of thinking still exists, both in me and out there, and yet, still, I am here, be it for stupidity or stubbornness, for some reason convinced that there is some other way, some other means for me to create what I envision, some other path through which I can manifest the beautiful world I see in my heart’s eye, some other method via which I may succeed on my own terms.

Why? Nothing outside confirms this. Nothing outside ever has. In fact, all the validation I have ever gotten from the outside world has come when I have chosen expedience over alignment, myth and image over truth.

So what the heck do I do?

I’ll tell you. I keep going. Somehow. Day by day. Moment by moment. Why? Your guess is as good as mine.