So, some of you may be confused or upset with the sudden termination of Pandora's Toybox. Make no mistake: this is a project into which I poured my heart, soul, and tons of my own finances. It is, has been, and always will be mine to do with as I choose. These aren't pleasant circumstances under which to say farewell, but it is my decision. Pandora's Toybox was fun...WAS fun. I learned a lot about myself, others, and the music industry as a whole, and I don't regret anything. Well, perhaps I do regret some things, but it doesn't matter. It's abundantly clear to me that this project is a failed effort, and it's time to face reality.
There will still be a Morte McAdaver - I have solo stuff in the works, my independent compositions that will be appearing in video games and whatnot, and other projects here and there. However, as of this writing, I no longer have any interest in social networking. I realize it's a "necessary evil" in promoting one's music, but I frankly don't care. It's not me. My mind may change over time, but I know that I only have painful memories and messages waiting for me if I come back on to Facebook or what have you. Suffice it to say, there is nothing left for me to say.
For now, I can only extend thanks to those who played with me, sang with me, collaborated with me, and basically made Pandora's Toybox the spectacle that it was. I feel that I offered something truly unique and interesting to the world, and I am proud of what I accomplished. However, I am burnt out, depressed, despondent, stressed, and whatever other synonyms for sad I can think of; most of music has become an onus for me, and Pandora's Toybox was simply a source of distress for me, thus I had to escape from it.
For those reading this, I will not be seeing any of your responses, as I will not be on Facebook. Goodbye, and thank you for being a fan of Pandora's Toybox, my music in general, or even just giving it a chance. I will be eternally grateful to you.
And so, a spectacularly original failure, Pandora's Toybox comes to a close. Farewell, everyone.
As 2011 draws to a close, it seems as good a time as any to provide a list of heartfelt thanks that may or may not coincide with a holiday involving turkey carcasses.
Most self-aggrandizing and obnoxious thanks go first: I am grateful for all the music I have been able to put out, all whom have made it possible and sounding great, every guest musician and friend that's been involved, everyone who has contributed to the live shows of both Pandora's Toybox and Sorrowseed. There is much more music to come, and I thank you all from the bottom of all my hearts that I have stored in creepy little jars in my basement. Thank you for sticking with me and reminding me how wonderful music truly can be.
I'm thankful for the wonderful women in my life, both near and far. You each should know who you are, and that I love you dearly, and it's a privilege to have you in my life.
I am thankful for my mother. She has fought Death beyond the expectations of many, and she remains as spry and magnificently snarky as ever. I've learned how to be the delightfully bitter gentleman that I am today because of her, and I am lucky to still have her and her unique brand of wondrously wry wisdom. I love you, mum.
I am thankful to have my spectacular job position as Nocturnal Auditor Seneschal, or at least that's what I like to call it. Never before have I been so at peace with my "real job," nor have I had the considerable boon of basically being paid to stay up all night and dick around on the internets. I thank my employers for giving me a job that I should have sought out a long ass time ago.
I am thankful to the many friends, acquaintances, contacts, and fellow musicians I have met and with whom I have stayed in touch over the years, dating back to when I was just a larva of some sort. I'm realizing who my lifelong friends are, and it feels good, man. I've come to know so many people, that it's somewhat staggering. I know I'm not famous or successful, and I may never be - at least not in THAT sense, but for a socially inept weirdo such as myself to have so many people that seem to like me in some fashion...I'd call that a triumph! Thank you all for putting up with me - I realize I'm an odd friend to have, and I am grateful that said oddness doesn't repel you.
Finally, I am thankful for the many lessons I've learned over the past few years, especially this one. This includes the harsh lessons brought from periods of great despair and mental turmoil. The suffering from certain events have made me stronger, and helped me realize many things both about myself and others. In my senescence, I am gaining an unbridled sense of certainty in my path/calling/[insert silly artsy term here].
Again, thank you to everyone who has kept up with me as lovers, friends, music partners, and fans. You make me feel more like a rock star than I can possibly express.
So now that I am 28 years old, I have to start considering how my funeral is going to go. I mean, as a gothic rock weirdo, I only have about 3 years or so left before I die from a mysterious Stygian anvil falling from the sky (or something along those lines), so this blog is going to serve as a reference for how my posthumous services should be handled.
First off, there needs to be a roast. I want people to celebrate my faults as well as my dubious merits, so it only seems fair to hold a viciously hilarious roast over my coffin/ashes/puddle of ooze.
There needs to be a party, wedding reception style. This can be a "sweet, he's finally dead!" sort of theme, or whatever snarky title you rapscallions have in mind. Drinking, music (mine if you like - that's totally optional), food, entertainment, perverted stuff, women in shiny rubber catsuits, etc. This is where you guys can have an awesome time; I'm not dying just to make you all sad and shit.
I want my funeral to be just as much of a circus as I've always viewed life. You're all invited to confirm my death and pour booze on my remains, because that's how much I love you. Bring lots of necrophilia jokes/puns, too.
Just to be clear: I am completely serious. I don't want traditional, churchy crap. I want to hear my eulogy from the people that knew me, and I want them to have fun doing it. I live to entertain you zany freaks and creatures, so my death should also serve that purpose. No religion, no morose vigils, just tons of politically incorrect fun.
And now we have a record that I will have a bitch of a time explaining to a lawyer. Yay!
- Maestro Morte McAdaver
(Witnessed by secretary Althea Carriage)
One evening, Morte was dining at a restaurant, sitting at a table outside in the refreshing, autumnal air. He was eventually accosted by a band of three, led by a necklace salesman with a sly grin. The salesman asked Morte: "Hey...you got a girl?" "Excuse me?" replied Morte."You know, a girlfriend! A wife!" "Yes," said a nodding Morte, raising a snarky eyebrow.With this, the salesman's eyes lit up, and he began his pitch. "You want to get her a present?" "Well, I'll be giving her my penis later, you see," Morte stated. Taken aback, but still maintaining a smile, the salesman continued: "But do you want to buy her a nice gift?" "My penis is rather nice, and I can give it to her very frequently for free." Cutting straight to the point, the salesman presented a velvet box to Morte, opening it to reveal a golden necklace. Immediately, Morte knew what to say."See, I can give her a different kind of necklace for free. "One of the salesman's cohort's began chuckling and gleefully said "Word! Like a pearl necklace, am I right?" Morte faked a smile, "Well done, sir! You are truly in the know." Laughing insincerely, the salesman and his entourage bid a casual farewell to Morte, leaving him to finish his amazing meal and finally leave him alone. The End. And the moral of the story is: Guys, don't buy jewelry for your women: just give them your dicks.
As we come to a long-sought period of show abundance, I can't help but feel all the more focused on finally getting our second full length release, Bleakshow recorded, released, and promoted for all of you devoted, lovable carnival weirdos. My supergoth heart weighs heavily, however, as maintaining the live act is weighing even more heavily on my not-so-fat wallet. It's been a long, baffling, and sometimes infuriating path, but I know what must be done. Bleakshow is going to be the biggest recording endeavor I've ever done; bigger than what I did with Sorrowseed. I'm reaching out to a lot of other musicians for help on this one, and I am asking you all to bear with me and help make this cynical circus rock masterpiece a possibility.
With love and various unspeakable perversions,
Some sort of gremlin-thing that has turned into what it is because of too much time being stuck to internet-based social networking sites. It's a hideous species.