Travel safe and talk soon!

​-AF

Wishing you all a HAPPY NEW YEAR 2022 :)

Title Inspiration: Watershed (Saliers), Indigo Girls

Flashback to the fall of 1999. I’m a newly reinstated junior at Cornell University, Ithaca, New York, having spent the previous semester on academic leave of absence, in order to, ostensibly, decide whether or not tertiary education was indeed the thing for me. In truth, a lot of me was still unsure, but for the most part it seemed like the thing to do, to keep me out of trouble, so to speak, and, in retrospect, given the influence my being-there has had upon so many factors of my current existence, it’s hard to imagine what my life would have been without my having returned as I did. By then, I had had several bouts of musical theater fever, and was firmly ensconced in its grasp. I found myself spending time with its practitioners, including dating, on, then off, then on again, then off again, a woman of rare talent in the field. Through osmosis and exposure alone, I found myself lucky enough to glean no small amount of education in what for me continues to be a noble and fascinating subject.

“States of Matter” had come a long way. Over the summer of 1999, I found myself in something of a writing glut, scratch-crafting songs that would go on to become some of the cornerstones of SOM, songs such as: Walking Away; With Wings to Fly; and Call of My Life—these titles may not be familiar to many of you, which, I’m realizing, is one of the reasons why I am writing this blog. But more on that to come. Over the fall, I took on my first major writing challenge, which was a mini-musical story that would eventually serve as the basis for SOM’s Memory and Visitations, Part One. I had long been a fan of R.C. Sherrif’s “Journey’s End,” and with more than a passing interest in World War One history, it felt natural, for me at least, to draw from both to create the backdrop for the Sail Away segment of the show. Unaccustomed, at the time, to writing music that served either characters or a story, writing the plucky young soldier, around whom the plot was centered, was fiercely uncharted territory, and brought with it no small complement of fears and concerns.

It was late January, the year 2000, and who could have ever predicted that such a rag-tag crew of haphazardly-organized, multi-passionate but painfully-inexperienced wannabe producers would have grown into a steadfast company of creative entrepreneurs, bound and determined to bring to life a theatrical production, whose success, be it artistic, financial, or otherwise, was far from assured. The presentation in question was an experimental musical revue I’d been writing on and off for the past three, or six, years, depending on to whom you spoke. By winter’s end, still 2000, the fledgling student organization “First Edition Productions”—who was mounting the production—had found itself a director, a stage manager, a good three quarters of the cast, the band (such as it was—one single pianist), a producer, and a venue. The other components, it seemed, could still be picked up along the way, with ample time for rehearsal before curtain up. There was, however, one small problem.

​There was no show.

Flashforward twelve years. The Mayan apocalypse approaches, and I’m inventorying my body of work as part of a comprehensive website redevelopment effort. The lead designer, going through the list of current BlueDorian projects, arrives at a collection of documents grouped together under the three-lettered acronym: SOM. I’m asked about it, and I clarify that SOM stands for “States of Matter,” which is a show I wrote, back in college. A follow-up question is posed—nothing pointed, just to gather more info on the subject; I’m asked: That’s a twelve-year-old project. Does it still have relevance in your life?

Flashback to the summer of 1995. I’m attending Interlochen Arts Camp, a jumbled mess of emotions (me, not the camp—I take that back: also, at times, the camp), playing piano for one of the institution’s jazz bands, alongside a charming, kind, self-possessed young lady named Norah, who, unbeknownst to all of us at the time, was slowly preparing herself for when she would eventually go on to become a worldwide superstar and leading expert in the field of a mellow, mellow, oh so mellow, jazz. Meanwhile, I’m spending most of my time trying to figure out life, without ever pausing to think about whether life ever took the time to try and figure out me. My closest friend at the time is a consummate New Yorker, with an ascerbic tongue and offbeat sense of humor. We bond over the original score of the musical “City of Angels;” he introduces me to the William Finn masterpiece “Falsettos,” and a firm friendship is forged.

We decide per breakfast one day that he and I should collaborate together and write a musical. Naturally, we decide on coming up with the title for this magnum opus first (priorities, priorities). Unable to conceive of any better means for such a vital task, the method we settle on ends up being a game of word association. Somehow, from goodness knows where, we stumble our way to the phrase “States of Matter” and decide that it is fitting, which is saying very little given that we’d yet to decide on subject matter. But with the grand excitement of a new project to sink one’s teeth into, by the end of the next week, I had put down the basic chord structure to a song. My thinking was that my collaborator would finish it, by writing its lyrics. This was not to be. By then, he had made plans to withdraw from the wooded cabins of northwestern Michigan, and return to the pulse and fervor of the Big Apple. I shelved my new creation, not thinking it likely I would ever see it again.

From the twisted weirdness of my warped mind, to you lovely people. Enjoy.
​
And a final shout-out to the fine musicians, artists, and practitioners who made up last year’s AFO. Please check out their links and show them some love; they are just brilliant people and fantastic musicians to boot: Tom Appleman (bass, vocals); Renée Dupuis (keys, vocals); Andrew Jones (drums); Dave Lieb (guitars, vocals); Elizabeth Lorrey (management & coordination); Elizabeth Geuss (producer).

Travel safe and talk soon.
​
-AF

Title Inspiration:
Song: ONCE IN A LIFETIME
Artist: TALKING HEADS

                                                                                        Enjoy! -AF

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.

A reworking of an old track from 2003, and a heart-filled shout out to all those sowing new seeds and growing new roots this year... -AF