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