Cheap Seats at the Cartesian Theater

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And who, pray tell
do you think you are?
What might you think
you're saying?
What do you prove?
Can you act?
Are you more than a caption?
Are you trapped?
Can you become no stronger?
Are you even aware?

You think you know it means something
You know you think it means something
You mean you think you know something
You know you mean to think something
You thing--you mean to think you know!

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Another new song I've been playing at recent performances.  This will likely be the title track on the second album, whenever that happens.  I'm pretty excited about how the project's shaping up--it'll be a collection of mostly short (< 2 minute) songs, many of which will explore different aspects of the human mind.  For example, "One Tea" partly concerns the brain's ability to visualize and conceptualize in abstract, not to mention become lost in thought to the point of ignoring current sensory input.  The short song format should allow for a lot of wide-ranging musical experiments but ensure that they're all easily digestible (well, at least from the perspective of time commitment--some, including this song, tread near or past the far reaches of what I was messing with last time). 

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking (insert comment about irony here) about how our brains work simultaneously as the executors of our actions and as the collectors and facilitators of our sensory and mind experience.  When I'm feeling particularly...frank, I'm tempted to think that our brains most often act automatically to fulfill their programming--to unconsciously act as we've acted before or are predisposed to act, to supply habitual necessities, to remember and want to re-achieve pleasure and avoid pain, and to veil it all with the so-arrogantly-human conscious certainty that each of our "selves" is really in control of what we're thinking, deliberately choosing before each action, and serving something greater than mere biological chemistry and deterministic behavioral probability.  Luckily, with the help of modern cognitive science and a bit of observant humility it's possible to at least try to rise above this oh-so predictable hubris and attempt something more.  It might not be wrapped in as neat a package, but acknowledging the realest state of things as accurately as possible seems to me to be the first step forward. 

Anyway, one day I was thinking something along these lines and was suddenly aware of that part of my mind which evaluates these thoughts--sure, I may (or may not) have a skeptical thoughts regarding the level of free agency the human mind actually possesses, but where do those thoughts come from?  Are they subject to the same predictability and programming, or do they perhaps issue from a less rigidly-regulated part of the mind--is it possible to stretch that rigidity and, if not travel to completely unmarked territory, to at least tread in a slightly different direction and free things up a bit?  This song addresses that part of my mind that sits in judgment of my programming.  Is it evidence of a more powerful agency, or merely illusory, another aspect of the mind's complexity--efficacy or description?  If it's indeed a sign that more can be wrung out of our minds than zombie-like fulfillment of our predispositions, is this small part of the mind enough to overcome the habitual brain chemistry that gets us through every day, or is it helpless in its novelty?  The shuffling word game at the end of the song ironically warns against becoming too impressed with the mind's ability to oversee some of its own processes.  Let's not forget what we are, where we came from and where we're going.

Musically, the song doesn't have any sort of real time signature, or a key, for that matter, though it's based on fifth intervals so each chord isn't harmonically unfamiliar to the ear.  It's got a tempo and a couple of recurring patterns, but the number of beats of silence between guitar strums alternates even if the pattern is similar.  It's also an experiment with using only bar chords.