Mannequin Eyes EP

I delete a lot of my in-progress material as soon as I make a new version. The first three tracks in this EP are tracks from my unfinished project There Goes Everybody. The first track “One Heart’s Trash” would have been the 1st track to the album; I never recorded the vocals to it. The second track “Mannequin Eyes” is the most and only finished thing of what I had, and considered the actual track that would have been on the album. The third track “Toy Soldier’s Arms” includes my first or second take with the vocals, though I didn’t keep going for a final take. The album was planned to be from 11 to 18 tracks; I think I was settling on 14 before I gave up on it. I’ve pushed all the other tracks into my “ideas” folder, which is where I do derive a lot of sounds from. So, while the album There Goes Everybody won’t see the light of day, the music will still make it out in some capacity. I’m not planning on recording anything until next year; I didn’t bring my keyboard with me to Sacramento.

So the fourth track in this EP, “They’re All Crazy,” was not planned to be in the album, it was made after I had already quit on TGE, because I was stressed and upset that I didn’t go through with it. I gave myself only one day to create the track from scratch.

The last two tracks are sounds pulled right out of my “ideas folder,” since I felt like adding more to this release, and just to show a couple random ideas that had floated around for a while in that folder. They’re pretty nice. These ideas of course will have obvious mistakes, but not too great that I couldn’t share them here.

Mannequin Eyes cover

This is considered the last release of “My Ex Epilogue”

From now on I publish as “anErnestCastle”



The question goes: Are emotions irrational?

Well, I understand emotions as feelings, and feelings are brought upon us by outside stimuli, be it through literal perceiving with our eyes or touch or taste, or with abstract concepts that may come our way, like hearing someone’s ideas. And to me, what’s more real than the things we perceive in our day to day lives, in our adventure of life?  I understand rationality as the ability to use logic, to think, to analyse the world for understanding. It’s my inclination that the more we do, the more we are. And we can’t do if we don’t perceive, they might as well be the same thing. We can not reason if we don’t have the ability to know our surroundings. Of course our feelings will deceive our judgement, but if that didn’t happen how boring would it be understanding the world so simply.

How irrational is it to have my intense feelings with my dogs and my cat and my family and my friends (precisely in that order how dare you)? I think it makes too much sense that I love these individuals, because I experienced the world with them more often than other individual dogs or cats or families or friends. I shared more similar moments with them, perceiving like things more than with strangers, to be exact. The more time we spent together, the stronger the bond got. That seems rational to me.

I’m not saying emotions are never irrational though, how many times have we known of a person who made so many wrong turns over another they loved dearly but didn’t love them back? From the outside perspective, it seems irrational because we have more analytic eyes for the story, but to them, or hell forgive, if we were in that position we’d be calling it a rational thing to go the extra mile for someone who isn’t seemingly responsive.

Our emotions can drive us to a certain level of reason, let’s say, though to see the world and understand it using reason is preferable. In either case, that’s how I finish my understanding, thinking how does this makes sense?

I love a well expressed emotion. I enjoy wondering how it made sense.

If any of this made sense….


This is the most personal it has gotten. It directly affects my cousin and her family. This is my impulse response.

“I’m the world’s most conservative person – this isn’t conservative… this is passion… to a certain extent for a very limited number of people it would be considered amnesty, but how do you tell a family who’s been here for 25 years to get out?” Donald Trump ~07-08.

You made a lot of sense right there, Donald. Even during your recent campaign you made sense on #DACA, bur your obsession to reverse everything Obama did is reaching beyond insane proportions.

This isn’t a move out of passion. You’ve consistently shown you have no heart, no morality, no limit to the shame you will inflict to your own country.

And tell me “how do you tell a family who’s been here for 25 years to get out?” You can’t. You were too much of a pussy to announce it yourself, because you know these were innocent children, innocent people who have only known life in the US. You’ve abandoned them.

This act is fundamentally who you are.

a couple scary moments

I need to distract myself for a thousand words or so. I’ll try to remember things that happened to me on my travels in the past couple years. I’m not sure anything too intense happened, like life threatening, but definitely interesting stuff. Before I start remembering, let me give a mental picture of what I typically wear out: Always wearing a t-shirt of a plain color, wearing thin running pants, and a little bag that goes over one shoulder where, during most of these adventures, I’d also have my camera. I’m usually wearing earphones on public transit, and a thin gray sweater I can easily fit into the bag in case I stay our long enough for the dark.

The first memory I can recall was a fast one, early in my lonely ventures, on a Green Line station, likely Lakewood, waiting for a train to Norwalk. I had gone to Lakewood Center to find a book store that sold books cheap. I had never ventured this south on Metro where is wasn’t towards Long Beach or San Pedro, mainly because there is a limited amount of buses down here. I searched for bookstores when I began my journeys, hoping to find a  small book I could carry with me all the time. This time I didn’t find a book I really liked. On the station I remember it being dark already. I know the music was loud, because I didn’t hear the man screaming initially, not until he was right by me screaming into my ear. I must have seemed the most blissful on the platform, because I noticed no one was really near me after it happened, but as I said it was a fast moment. The man screamed around and walked towards me. When he came up to me he had screamed something to the effect of “I’m going to rape you.. up the ass,” loud enough so I could hear it. His face was facing right next to me, but I did not react. Not a single nerve moved while he made his claims at me and walked behind me further into the platform. I could smell the alcohol in his breath. After watching him go to I made my way to the other side and kept still again waiting for the train. That was the last time I stepped onto Lakewood Station, or gone to Lakewood Center.

This next moment is a long one. I had visited LACMA, La County Museum of Art, for the Nth time, being a member and this being one of the main places to visit when I had no real plan. I was on my way back to LA, it was dark, and I had left the 720 bus down to Wilshire Station. As I walked down on one end of the platform, I spotted a black man in a cool tan vest and suit with a number of books at his side, looking up at me. I meandered down to a seat, and next to me sat an old lady who worked at the museum. The man who was watching me came and sat beside me, lay his books own, and stared at me. Straight at me. Whispering things to himself. With eyes wide open, again, fixed towards my eyes. .. I removed my earphones and asked him if he said something to me, but it took another couple second of his voice to finally get him to speak up. He clearly said “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” I responded with a long okayyy. He asked me where I was from, if I was Portuguese or Moroccan.. I revealed neither, that I was Mexican with Spanish ancestors. He nodded and kept whispering to himself how beautiful I was. I was weirded out of course, but didn’t want to leave him alone with the old lady. He asked for my name, where I came from and where I was going. I gave him half-truths, things like my middle name, coming from a museum and going to the station to get picked up (even in this situation I found it difficult to tell a lie). I remember one of the books he was carrying was a bible. It felt like forever for the train to come, and I did my best not-a-power-walk-but-still-a-power-walk I could down a couple train cars into one that was very lonely, then sat at the middle. The man showed up and sat across from me. There were so many open seats but he was clearly wanting me. I knew I was the more paranoid of the two, he was just acting cool and composed, keeping our conversation going. We talked the whole time to Union Station. The last thing we talked about was piano. I told him I played piano and how I recorded and what it sounded like and of course he was mesmerized. Approaching the station he asked me for a pen and paper, but I had no paper. He ripped a page from his bible and wrote down his number and email, offering me private piano lessons. I was grateful for the offer but I haven’t contacted him. I still have the paper somewhere, for memory keeping. I didn’t see him after that. Made my way to the bus and called it a day.

Those two I’ll end with for now. Those are the most eventful stories anyways, at least that I could think of.

I came for the trees and the trees came for me

The first week at Sacramento was alright. There was a gradual getting used to of the little world that was the dorm and school. Walking through this heat but under cover of the trees was amazing! This is what I wanted to feel. This is the place that during the fall all these trees go fall colors. I think they’re maidenhair trees?

It didn’t take long before I went off on the bus to the heart of Sacramento. I was excited to go and figure out what was there, The Capitol does look amazing,


oh wait…

IMG_1604it was when I took this photo that I noticed the camera lens was dusty, if you can tell from looking across the blue sky.IMG_1618

But I’ve also slowly grown depressed. And when I get depressed it’s so low. I lose so much willpower and confidence and whatnot. It’s mainly because of how quiet I am in this world where I haven’t found any friends or social setting. The only time I get to speak is during my government and philosophy courses, and you know how talkative those can be. I don’t go all out in there, but I don’t go quiet either. But it’s when I’m out of the classroom, ya know, most of the time, when I’m all alone. And I know I was always all alone when I hung out in LA after classes or work, but this time it feels much heavier. But when I walk throuhg the trees, I feel at bliss. They’re here for me.

I haven’t gone to work yet so maybe that will help, as it did last time I was this gloomy.

I’ve been wanting to post this photo on social media,


but I’m reluctant to, for a few reasons:

I’m not one to post these kinds of photos. I only did it for one that stated When you feel like quitting, remember why you started, something like that. That message comes through me every day, always reminding me to stay on the tough path. This one sums up in one sentense what I’ve been trying to achieve in the past three years. And it comes from the father or Taoism, a philosophy I remeber adopting in my life back then. Now I’m not so intent on defining myself, but I just so happen to live the way of the Tao more than a different way.

Another reason is that posting this picture conveys how self aware I am, feels nothing more than self-agrandization. I don’t want to convey that message, but now as I think of it, I realize, who cares?? x)

Anyways yeah I’ll post it. Not a bid deal. It’s my life motto and hopefully others will appreciate it at best, unfriend me at worst.

live forever

A question goes: Is life meaningless if we can live forever?

I don’t think so. I don’t consider longevity of life a way to assess one’s meaning. I’d lean more towards doing things throughout your life that can lead you to become more of who you are. But then again, following that train of thought I guess if I live forever and do everything I can possibly do that could make me a better self (or I guess just everything), I’ll max out on room for improvement (since I’ve done everything) and therefore have lost meaning in my life,

considering as well that I wouldn’t kill myself…

that’s the best I got.