Dead Bear Mountain - ovenrake

The emotion residing within this album may
not seem apparent, but the emotion's validation
can be decided upon one's  bias.

     This album is a narrative of a time frame that may have not lasted too long, but has left it's own stain. A stain that slowly grew for 6 months, much like the coffee drinker who is oblivious to the hole in their lip. Each week the stain grew darker in color. It started off as unnoticeable and easy to  cover up with a slight jacket adjustment. Eventually it became something I couldn't just toss into the washer and let the detergent do it's duty. The stain became so noticeable I soon enough had to hand it over to the local dry cleaning with my eyes fixated on the ground and my scuffling shoes.

     Every moment and notion before, after, and during had a rising level of uncertanity. My confidence and knowledge seemed to be compromised at nearly every turn. Whether if it was monetary issues, relationships, education, artistic withdrawals; I eventually broke down to a level of jaded ignorance.

     Things I once loved became a reality and had lost their charm they once held over my head. It wasn't a
necessarily a dream crushing experience; It actually
was one of the only gratifying aspect of the entire
experience. It will never show up in paperwork or
college credits, but I know I have learned a great
lesson that a Bachelors in liberal meta-philosophical
arts could have ever prepared me for. My overall
lack of motivation to pursue such hypothesis' soon
became my downfall. I was only concerned of basic
human needs (Shelter, food, water, and interaction).

     Most days started the same, and ended with the same disappointment. A young male fresh out of
community college college looking for a simple job.
This narrative seemed so widespread and due to such
a mediocre epidemic, much more qualifications were expected out of the indvidual. Day after day of constant disappointment also
contributed to my academic downfall.  I wished Plato
and Aristotle were relevant to my studies. I wished
the local comradery was relevant towards the
acceleration in my academia. I wished such lofty
ideals and questions could be so intriguing. Though
my problem resided within the question itself.

     I felt lonely in a heart-warming, welcoming
community. In our state's capital full of big ideas,
plans, and movements. Flyers were scattered throughout
the city. It was a constant reminder of the sense of community I felt
detached from, though I was invited. I did found solace in a home away from my shared bedroom. The ones who resided there were modest intellects whom never lost their childhood innocence.

     This discovery amazed me to say the least, and the fact they were
nocturnal like me helped even more. With caffeine, alcohol, and
nicotine at our disposal, it was a liberating experience. Not the kind
of dull fraternity we are familiar within college towns, this was an
enlightening time. I even celebrated my 19th birthday in their living
room, It was celebrated with malt liquor and the start of a new
composition "Electric". Long dialogues of whatever was on our minds
was almost reminiscent of the fabled greek pederasty philosophers. We
often spoke of "Back Home". It was comfortable to share the
backgrounds we have, and after a few more drinks, meta-physical
bullshit was the hot topic. Perspective was put into place and the
cold bike rides home at 5AM was the last concern of mine.


     I grew envious of all my friends who could focus so much time and
dedication to their studies. They all had moved to different towns and
cities, while being fully prepared for this onslaught of finances and
academia. The amount of immediate success seemed geographically
respective; They all went north, while I, appropriately, went south.
My comfort was often compromised while I applied for several odd-jobs
around town.

     Most stories have a wise old man to accompany the narrative. He lived
alone with his cat, Leo, and was obviously in the need for some
companionship. I'd help with the upkeep of his yard and home for a
minuscule payment. I wanted to trust this man, yet I just could not.
Most situations were completely harmless, but would put most people at
unease. He had the right intentions and I want to apologize to him for
not being  completely honest with that wise, awkward man. I called
back home to just to feel like what I was doing was right and respectable.
Though at times I'd find my self at my lowest; Most
notably, in an alley of the downtown district. I felt like
a complete failure and an embarrassment.

     Though all of this soon came to a halt when my finances said enough
is enough. As the snow fell, I left the town I finally became
comfortable with. I came back home in search for a job, and to finally
get back to figuring out my own life. The whole time I was gone, music
started to speak to me on a completely different level. It wasn't just
calculating measures, or scales,or whatever was functional. I finally
started putting these notes and chords within my own context and could
actually start feeling what I was writing. Though I was feeling
constant disappointment and an overall feeling of distraught over my
woes, the music did not reflect these exact feelings. My music was my
solution and due to basic logic, a solution can not be your problem. This realization
helped me greatly when it came to the "pursuit of happiness". It can
be considered wishful thinking, and I do not object. The music is
novel at best and I am not trying to impress anyone, but myself.
Basically, this album is an autobiographical transcription of the life
I often glamorize. It's just not often I find myself speaking of the
unhappy times in specific when I came back home. Worry is the last
thing I want to wish upon the people I love and care for, and I thank
them for not leaving me in my times of need.