And taxes

Friends,

I would like to celebrate the one-twelfth anniversary of this little experiment by announcing its demise. I'm not one to allow things to fade away. Advarp ends here.

I tend to write rules for myself, stupid little things, where I see something that I think should not be, and I say to myself, out loud, "I will not do it that way."

Advarp came about that way.

But, I have some unfinished business:

Briefly, Peace, Love, Empathy: The Nineties was supposed to be about empathy. Unlike other situations I've written about, Part One was mostly truthful. Part Two was supposed to explain most of the empathy. I would have had to make up a lot of Part Two, as what I had lived didn't really illustrate the situation I'd set up in Part One. I would have said how I discovered that the song was written about Kurt Cobain's suicide by linking the 'chorus' of the song with his suicide note. From this, I would desire for meaning in song lyrics - I would be converted by the revelation. Then, I look for meaning, but I would often fail to find it. So I give up, and pay no attention to the lyrics.

The narrative was supposed to highlight how I have felt recently, where I've tried to understand the meaning of something, beyond the obvious face value meaning, but fell short. It is empathy because I understand how most of you might be feeling when reading Advarp. I tell people, there's meaning here. But it is tough to find. It requires too much effort. I gave up. You give up. I give up.

So, that was my approach. [Yes, there was meaning in everything, even if it was a little in joke, or a movie reference, or something.]

People not understanding wasn't the reason for my pulling the plug, though. It was me losing sight of my ideals. Forgetting [both intentionally and accidentally] that I'd written down [yes, I'd written it down] some rules for an approach to Advarp.

PLE: TN: Part One made it obvious that I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be doing. It was a terrible piece. I'd put in the effort of writing it, and realised that the effort was for nothing - it took me two hours to get that done, and it comes out as shit. I see in the letter the lack of effort in that effort, if you get what I'm saying. It has always been a difficult task, writing for this Advarp thing, but I knew what I was getting myself into.

The rules are to blame. If the rules were better, they would allow for better writing. I didn't write the rules well enough that it allowed the shit to fall through.

SUBTLE: Don't force it down people's throats. It'll take time. Patience.

This was one of my rules. I'd given up on the 'patience' - thirty-one days is not a long time. There are many other rules, but there's no need to go into detail.

It didn't work out. The fit wasn't right. These are damaged goods, now.

Advarp ends here. The decision of the author is final. No correspondence will be entered into.

After one month and eight letters, Advarp and Martin have decided to cease their collaboration. The decision was amicable, and they maintain good relations between each other. Each have decided to pursue their own projects.

Sincerely.

Peace, Love, Empathy: The Nineties: Part One

Dear,

I was never a fan of Nirvana. I mean, Smells Like Teen Spirit was a brilliant track, but I didn't go smashing down shopfronts on hearing news of his death.

Imperial Teen, an inconsequential pop band of the mid-nineties, recorded a song that was either in honour, or in memory of the lead singer of Nirvana.

I was in a band. It must have been a coincidence that this band formed as I had just discovered pop music.

Peace. Love. Empathy.

It goes against my ideals and my understanding of pop music to try and understand the lyrics. Forget what Rob tells you. You are miserable because you suck.

I was of the Mike Patton school of lyric.

I think that too many people think too much about my lyrics. I am more a person who works with the sound of a word than with its meaning. Often I just choose the words because of the rhythm, not because of the meaning.

Mike Patton

The voice is just another instrument. There would be no need for explanations. Words are chosen for rhythm. That's it.

I tried, though, to understand the song. I was unaware of its link to Nirvana when we started playing that song. The song seemed to go against the norm (or, well, my understanding) of pop song structure at times. The verse seemed to be the chorus, because it repeated the title in the lyric, and because the actual 'chorus' was much louder than the 'verse' - it was all fuzz guitars and screaming. (You do expect the chorus to be louder, don't you?) The song had harmonies, it had four vocal parts singing different things on top of each other. The opening was this wonderfully jangly guitar bit. It was the best introduction to guitar pop a teenager of the nineties could ask for.

We, the band, had fun with the lyrics:

You take it like a man, boy
You kiss me like a man, boy
You say you're sick of Mountain Dew
Peace and love and empathy

Some of these words aren't true. We'd played around with them. We enjoyed the sound of the other words. There was also mention of stomach pumping, and crowns, and a band - the lyrics were fun.

Do you understand what you are reading?

You must note how I am trying to set up a situation - obviously, I will grow as a person and have a change in opinion. I encourage you to look for appropriate references to all sorts of stuff (this time, I've looked to a British author for ideas). Clues to the meaning of all this will hopefully come in the next installment.

Where am I going, though?

Sincerely.

And now, for some trash

Dearest,

I don't know about you, but seriously, is anybody really surprised at what Kate Moss is up to? Tabloid media is making out like it's such a scandal. Didn't everyone just assume she was into that sort of stuff?

Forget Jude and Sadie, you should see the footage of her fling with the Meg and Jack and Burt and Hal. Worth a look ... seriously.

Now, it has been brought to me, on more than one occasion, the question of why Melody and Belle and Sebastian can't do their thing at the same time. I'd suggested incest, but that answer isn't sufficient for some of these eavesdroppers. I know you understand me, but others, they just don't appreciate that I have somewhat conservative views on incest. Oh, well. Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with myself.

Zing.