Kostyn's Multimedia Wonderland

Home of Kostyn's Living Portfolio

Welcome to my (Kostyn's) "Multimedia Wonderland" ("Website" didn't have enough of a ring to it), here is where you will find links to my everything (music, socials, whatever else I make and put on the internet) as well as some writing and possibly other artsy content. The headings should be fairly self-explanatory.

Essentially, everything I do here is an experiment in content creation. What can I put online? Should I put anything online? Why? I don't have any of these answers, but I imagine mistakes will help me make some guidelines.

I am, like everyone else who does anything, a perfectionist, but I am actively trying to beat that into the earth, so I am going to purposely make projects public.

I am aware that all of the above is a rhetorical move which protects me from criticism by writing off content that critics may not like as an experiment, but I assure you, your criticism is most welcome.

 

Music, art, film, communication, media, popular culture, writing, poetry, photography, videography, journalism, nonfiction, fiction, politics, thoughts, blogs, and more.

 

Niagara, Ontario, Canada.

A Collection of Imperfection 04 "End of Man" Lyrics

The man looks down at his filthy hands / And he thinks to himself about what he’s become / Nothing spectacular he to himself / Has come about in this life of mine

This beach / This beach is a curse / This beach / This beach is a curse / For better or worse / This beach / This beach is a curse / For better or worse

Wading, is what he decides he will do and he begins to traverse / The long white shore / As he walks, he walks West until his calves begin to burn / And he turns towards the waves and begins to walk again

This beach / This beach is a curse / This beach / This beach is a curse / For better or worse / This beach / This beach is a curse / For better or worse

The water begins to wash over him / As he makes his way into the inky black / There is a point, at which the cold water begins / To feel like silk there’s no light, no tunnel, no shadow, no darkness, just empty

This beach / This beach is a curse / This beach / This beach is a curse / For better or worse / This beach / This beach is a curse / For better or worse
 

A Collection of Imperfection available HERE.

A Collection of Imperfection 03 "Stories" Lyrics

Curled under a blanket at night / It was not the heat that kept me warm / With feverish excitement, I’d plunge / To find that I have gills

I find that passion doesn’t last / Often to my own dismay / For that, I must thank my parents / Loving mom and dad

What a strange thought to think about / All that makes them unique / What a strange thought to think about / Everyone thinks

My mother is a raging sea on fire / Cannons quickly loaded, quip and query well researched / And the other hand my father / Logical, reasonable, and quiet

I used to think that I only took after her / Still more like her day by day / But it’s times like these I remember / My father’s in here, he’s just harder to find

What a strange thought to think about / All that makes them unique / What a strange thought to think about / Everyone thinks

We’re so beautifully alone / Yet we’re so tragically together / Who were you at twelve? / Who are you now? / What a novel this would make / What stories we could tell / Tales of adventure, heartache, and sorrow / Fiction with real life mixed in

His wife and kids died in a car crash / She fell in love with her best friend / He has an adorable rescue cat / She writes poetry about a dead uncle / He fought in a war / She stubbed her toe at work / He loves decorating cakes / She’s an ex-bodybuilder / He has a movie review blog / She’s a big vinyl fan / He wants to start to date men / She’s top of her class

A Collection of Imperfection available HERE.

A Collection of Imperfection 02 "Barcode Tattoo" Lyrics

Oh my love yes I insist / Tattoo this barcode on my wrist / With it we can prove to me and to you for once and for all that I exist

You and I, we’ll set a mattress in front of the record player / You and I, we’ll take off all our clothes / And we’ll put on Radiohead and we’ll just lie there nearly dead / Naked and exposed

Oh my love yes I insist / Tattoo this barcode on my wrist / With it we can prove to me and to you for once and for all that I exist
Oh my love yes I insist / Tattoo this barcode on my wrist / With it we can prove to me and to you for once and for all that I exist

For hours we can lose ourselves / Just staring at the ceiling and holding hands / I promise that I’ll only get up to restart the album / Or if need be I’ll get us more tea

Oh my love yes I insist / Tattoo this barcode on my wrist / With it we can prove to me and to you for once and for all that I exist
Oh my love yes I insist / Tattoo this barcode on my wrist / With it we can prove to me and to you for once and for all that I exist

Feel the planet as it spins / Global warming kicks us all in the shins / But for this moment / Nothing but you and I matters anyways 

Oh my love yes I insist / Tattoo this barcode on my wrist / With it we can prove to me and to you for once and for all that I exist
Oh my love yes I insist / Tattoo this barcode on my wrist / With it we can prove to me and to you for once and for all that I exist
Oh my love yes I exist
 

A Collection of Imperfection available HERE.

A Collection of Imperfection 01 "Cooperate" Lyrics

Pen the poem as it appears on the page / Stare awestruck at the blazing stars / You can never escape, but you can see this tiny sliver of our galaxy

How presumptuous we are / To even think to call this ours / Can you even imagine what the hell must be just out of our reach?

How can you expect me to just sit here quietly / When there’s a whole Universe inside my head and we all know there’s at least one more outside of it? / But still, you keep me caged / Ask me the same questions every day / But I will not, no / I will not cooperate / I will not cooperate / I will not cooperate

How long does our kind last? / When do the stars collapse? / If you die then you are nothing / And soon will be the day when at last you are forgotten

The Sun engulfs the Earth / And everything is scorched / Billions of years of history long since passed / Nothing left, nothing left, nothing left

And after all that / After the Sun explodes / Everything that once was is dark and cold / The timing is irrelevant when time stops / And the Universe dies

How can you expect me to just sit here quietly / When there’s a whole Universe inside my head and we all know there’s at least one more outside of it? / But still, you keep me caged / Ask me the same fucking questions every day / But I will not, no / I will not cooperate / I will not cooperate / I will not cooperate

 

A Collection of Imperfection available HERE.

Verse, poetry, smoking opium, and a self-centered train of thought that spirals downwards

How does one write? / Should one make a proclamation / A declaration of presence, wisdom, or of some other thing? / Or should they stay modest and reveal knowledge through a process / Must there be knowledge?
 
What does it mean to write something down? / Many would suggest that it is to create / Or to tell / Or to lie / Or to remove oneself and one's readers from the truth / I’ll admit that I am lost
 
Adrift in a sea of my own ideas and more so of my own words and others’ / Sometimes when I make, when I create, I step away from the brain I understand as me / From the artist’s idol hands and intellect and self-awareness, and I’ll just write
 
I believe this process is called free writing, but I think that by / Separating these lines / Into lines divided by / Slashes on a digital page this is poetry and not prose / Or at least, I suppose, this is verse
 
Does this make me a poet? / The Romantics tell me no / I shall not be so bold as to attempt to make an announcement on the state of poetry, about poetry, or to define any such things / I am not as bold as the Romantics
 
But I look inwards like they do I suppose, probably not as deep, and with less ability and skill and intelligence / This line has successfully put me among the greats, as the greats put themselves among the other greats with similar but better lines / It’s a rhetorical trick, this whole thing
 
But again, I am just writing things down / Or more so I am typing things down / Or up, as the monitor is above the keyboard / How, I wonder, does typing verse differ from writing it? / I have certainly done both, but I’ve never finished a written poem, digital ones are much easier to finish
 
If I start smoking opium now can I catch Coleridge and be a digital romantic? 
 
There it is! / The observation buried within this “poem” / Have I then buried the lede or is that the point? / More probably there is no point / It has been too long since I’ve written anything like this / I wonder if by free writing I am posing as a poet without themes in mind or if this is just what poets do
 
If this ends up as anything worth rereading I will certainly revise / Is that then poetry? / I think poetry is an act of narcissism / I want to be heard yes, but more than that I want to speak and to make things of my own volition / Do I write like this because I fear writing works that can be wrong? / Such as political pieces or the like?
 
Am I a versifying journalist? / Who knows, probably, and hopefully, if anyone ever reads this, or has it read to them, they will be able to tell me / But again, this is the internet now, so please if you see this, and it has become very popular — albeit I doubt it — / Please don’t Tweet me, the notifications will surely distract me too much to write anything else
 
The end. Now to find those themes.
 

"Dishfish, man" Lyrics

Well, I’m standing in the kitchen / And I’m staring at my cell phone / Because i’ve been waiting for a notification, for some validation, for over an hour now

And when I go back to the task at hand / And I look back down in the sink again / And this has happened once before, this has happened once before / I saw a fish swimming in the dish water

I only stop drinking coffee / When I start drinking wine /Because time is an illusion / And all my life is deconstruction, demolition, demolition, demolition, deconstruction

So, I asked the dishfish, / What the hell he was doing just swimming in my kitchen

And the fish said / “Nah man, this is something that you’re doing to yourself / How many times does a talking fish have to tell you to get help? / Too many times, too many times, too many times, too many times

I only stop drinking coffee / When I start drinking wine /Because time is an illusion / And all my life is deconstruction, demolition, demolition, demolition, deconstruction

And then the fish grew man legs / Man arms, a man's face / And he got really aggressive / And I got overly defensive again
Talking fish always get me like that, man.

On Bandcamp HERE.

For some thoughts on the lyrics see the previous post.

Kostyn's Multimedia Wonderland

Email Kostyn at contact@kostyn.ca

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