u/KazViolin

It's stupid and handles poorly, that is all.

I recently moved to a place about 30 min north of DFW and so I'm hoping I could get some recommendations on where I might record some music.

I play violin both classical and fiddle and for the classical side I enjoy playing in churches or some very old buildings. I've found those typically have great acoustics and so I seek them out, but really any place with high ceilings and good reverberance would be nice.

Preferably without a lot of people as I am trying to record and where people won't care. Union station was nice acoustically but I guess they thought I was panhandling or something cause they told me I couldn't play inside.

Any insight would be appreciated, thanks.

Believe it or not Vivaldi wrote more than just the Four Seasons (a lot more!) and it's very clear that he had a great influence on Bach as when Vivaldi grew old, Bach was young and it's clear he admired Vivaldi's works, transcribing several, such as RV 580 Concerto for 4 violins in B minor into BWV 1065 Concerto for 4 harpsichords in A minor.

Here in a Sonata, one could almost mistake this for Bach, but alas it is still Vivaldi, the precursor. I still hold to the idea that Vivaldi walked so that Bach could run, the two titans that in my opinion define the Baroque Era.

Anyways, do enjoy a piece of Vivaldi's other than the Four Seasons and admire the influence that led to Bach.

When I get into arguments with people about HSR and implementing it in the USA, 3 things comes up as a counter to it, that being the cost, where to put it and something about cars opposing it.

The first and most important, imo, the cost is actually backwards, any and all costs should be used as a way to bring back manufacturing and production to the US. Imagine if the Rust Belt was turned back into the Steel Belt, imagine if Detroit which used to make auto parts instead made train parts, 2 vital economies that were sent overseas to cheaper labor.

We could subsidize steel and part production, there are plenty of taxes that get wasted, honestly if we could stop sending aid abroad to countries that hate us, we could easily fund internal infrastructure, like HSR. I'd like to see our taxes actually get used for something positive and if we keep it all local, the theory is that it will bring back what used to be a good paying job sector for Americans. I could see it creating a section of middle class for working class people.

Second is where to put it, Amtrak literally already runs all over the US, just build next to it? I really fail to understand this take, I'm sure there's some red tape nonsense but I feel like this is already solved.

And the last one, I don't know why the auto industry would actually oppose rail, cars are not really good for cross country/city to city travel, cars are mostly for either in city travel or to get out of the city into nature.

The real enemy, imo, is air travel. Traveling by air sucks, but it's the only way to get to anywhere in a timely manner. Flying from Chicago to Dallas is a 2.5 hour flight, by car its 14+hours no breaks and by train it's about 20 hours with no delays. If a HSR could go between them in 3 or 3.5 hours, it'd be short enough that a lot of people would prefer to ride by train which doesn't involve TSA, is far more comfortable ride in every way and last time I took a train I got two FREE checked bags and two FREE carry ons, which is insane to me as last time I flew they wanted to charge me 70 bucks for my violin, despite it being my literal only item.

The real enemy of HSR is air, by far as they stand to lose far more than the auto industry could ever, but regardless, I think HSR would not be "too expensive" and could actually prove to stimulate the economies of sectors that once made America a powerhouse until they were shipped overseas. Subsidize steel, concrete and train parts and it can revitalize so much of what America lost.

There is a pit, it lay at the heart of civilization of man, it is known by all, seen by all and yet many act as though it is not there, as though it does not truly exist. It is a pit of despair, where their fellow man have fallen into, once they were like those above, but due to circumstances, some of their own fault, others completely out of their control, and yet all the same has left them in the pit.
The pit is a place free of the laws of man, a place where instead there is what a man can do and what a man can’t do, and that is all there is. A man can be generous, can be good if he so chooses, but so too can a man be a monster and feed upon the others, here there are no social contracts of which men must abide to remain in civilized terms, here chaos reigns, it is too much for the powers that be above to fully control, instead they seek only to pretend that it does not exist, for all the evidence to the contrary, they shall simply turn a blind eye, will pretend the wails are just the wind and will only speak of it in hushed tones in the confines of privacy.
The pit has levels, some lay unseen to most of the denizens, though the bottom is always seen, it is a place of filth and horror. The stench of waste both fresh and stale is almost physical, as one arrives at the bottom level it is as if they pass through a wall, invisible to the eye and intangible to touch, but nonetheless there is some demarcation of odor that upon crossing the threshold the nostrils are assaulted. Those that dwell at the bottom have lost the ability to smell their own stench, they have become accustomed to it as they have other things, the unsightly bodies, twisted by disease, malnutrition and various substances injected, smoked or otherwise imbibed to dull the pain of their existence. A sea of moans and groans is constant and undulating, pierced by shrieks and screams as one or more atrocities occur among them. They shamble to and fro, they inflict suffering upon themselves as well as others and then hide within the prick of a needle, the smoke of a pipe or at the bottom of a bottle.
Above the bottom is a ledge, not so wide as to rest, though it lay beyond the border of smells, the sea of lamentations is but a murmur below, here one can find some rest, if a bit warily. For on this level there are monsters that lay in the dark, they prey on those below as well as those errant souls who have made it out of the depths or have fallen from higher places. This level is one of danger, all it takes is one slip, one mistake and you tumble down below. Sleep does not come easy, if at all and it is imperative that one who does not wish to become a monster themselves or fall to the abyss climbs out of here as quickly as possible.
A level up from there is seen as a huge step in quality of life, though it cannot hold a candle to the flame of life above, here there is at least some hope, some chance of surviving. The air can be breathed here, no longer noxious to those not steeped in their own filth, they are free of the abuse of substances and are of their own mind, or at least what is left. Meaningless chatter fills the air, meant to fill the void of silence they find uncomfortable, as if any moment of silence may make them reflect upon themselves and their state of being, they move about with a sort of languidness as their previous struggles have left them drained but it is here that the climb out of the pit can truly begin, or likewise they can just as easily fall.

This level is called “The Asylum” there are walls, there are beds, there are even rooms set aside for comfort and diversions. The halls are cold and lifeless, it is lit during the day and at night there is always a faint light for there is always someone watching, keeping an eye on the patients, a part of an organization masquerading as saviors.
But alas there is safety, necessities are provided and though it may prove difficult for some of them, they can rest and recuperate.
Some engage in interminable pissing contests, holding onto some vainglorious pride that acts only as a facade to the truth of the despicable creature that they are. They have become twisted into malignant beings, unable to cope with the troubles that have plagued them above or below. Others yet are full of apathy, unable to muster any defense to those who would cast words as well as stones to tear them down, broken first from the inside and later their shell. The saddest of all are the lost, those who are but hollow shells, perhaps they found refuge too late, or perhaps the Asylum itself broke them down.
In the halls and the rooms there is the air of optimism, and yet it is a lie, it exists not to actually give hope to the patients but instead its purpose is to mollify them, for the patients are a commodity of sorts, a means to an end. The Asylum is not provided out of compassion, not even necessity, it is provided to fulfill an illusion, to paint a picture and to receive compensation for covering up the grisly truth below.
The patients, are mostly unaware, unwitting as to the true nature of the leviathan they reside in, they are told how much it costs to support them, they are reminded again and again that they should be grateful, and that more than anything that the Asylum and those who run it want nothing but the best for them.
And so the patients reside at the Asylum, for the most part they are in fact truly grateful, they appreciate the rest, they appreciate the gifts of food and water and other necessities and they do not question the motives of their benefactors. For the most part they wish to climb out of the pit, they wish to be called men again, respected and treated fairly, not looked down upon as being subhuman because of where they ended up, be it their own fault or simply that of misfortune.
In theory they are all trying to make it out of the pit, or at least that is what they tell themselves, mostly because they have been told that by the watchers of the pit. Others, who are still a part of civilization, they stand upon the edge and watch the pit dwellers, offering what seems like grace, food and water a plenty and they light the way to ledge of the Asylum, opening the doors to its halls and promising them a second chance at life.

But do not be fooled, for these watchers are the keepers of the pit, they do not do their task out of some sense of compassion or responsibility but for what most men do things for, they do it for money. Their positions have become inextricably tied to the dwellers of the pit, their post on secured so long as there are those to be watched and so although the mission of the watchers may be stated as “to lift the denizens of the pit up back to the world of light”, they now seek to keep those below down where they can be utilized.
For the world above knows about the pit, they know of the people that lay within, they know it is a great injustice and decry it as such, that their fellow man lay in this hole of destitution, their humanity and empathy calls for action and so they have levied taxes and raised funds to handle it.
These funds are handed to the watchers, those who in the light preach about struggle and hardship, in front of others they will talk with the utmost empathy for those below, they will show their plans to get them out, to be a light shining in the darkness, a beacon for the destitute. Prettied words and charming smiles, along with the job being one that no one truly wished to do themselves, they secured the right to the funds.
Now they sit in their towers and upon ramparts and look down upon their charges, ever watchful to make sure that they simply remain where they are, not out of malice but simple greed, for those below are their golden goose.
Every once in a while to show that they are doing their job, they let down an unseen rope, to one of the favored pit dwellers, they hoist him up in the dead of night while the others sleep and recruit him into the bottom of their ranks. He serves both as an exhibit for those who pay the fund, and a sort of prized guinea pig to those below that the system truly works, though in truth it is but a sham and he now acts like a monkey to hold his position out of the pit. To go back would be unthinkable and so he closes off his mind to the fact that he now is a prisoner more so than even when he lay at the bottom of the pit.
It is not to say that it is all hopeless, that the gifts of food, water and rest are to be scorned purely out of spite. There are those strong of will and cunning of mind enough to not lose themselves, to take advantage of what is offered as an assuage to their woes.
But to do so, one must be aware of the truth of the matter, they do not go from the pit to a place of safety, they go not to some place of healing, they go instead to what may be called an asylum for the wayward. A name used for what was supposed to be a refuge but has instead turned into a sort of prison, meant to keep the patients content, to kill their will and keep them bound within its halls.

So I'm probably going to be homeless again in a couple weeks, mid June most likely and I'm just gonna try to prepare for it.

I can't afford rent, so what j have for this month I will instead spend on self storage with the idea that I can store my stuff, and just exchange what I need. So for example I do music so during the day I can grab my instrument and other stuff for gigs, and at night I can put that stuff away and grab a bug out bag for camping somewhere in the city.

Every week or 2 I'll get a night at a hostel to use their washers and dryers, I can bathe with water spigots.

I'll probably get a month long metro card and yea just try to make this work.

Any other recommendations? I don't have too much stuff, like 2 suitcases, one of which will be stuff that's like cooking pans or a sewing machine that I won't really need to access. So I imagine a small unit will work, I don't think they'll have a problem with me coming in and out so long as I'm not trying to stay overnight or something.

I love classical music, I consider it a core tenet of my being , so when I sign up for a site and it asks for my interest Isee "music" and almost check the box but then I remember most people enjoy music incorrectly.

I just know I'll be bombarded with crappy pop music, generic country, or god forbid rap, euuughhh.

I remember taking a music appreciation class once in highschool and I hated every second except my presentation. The only good one all year.

I'm thinking of making a naval themed TCG, the main idea will be to make a more or less simplified TCG that relies more on a combination of skill and luck as opposed to who spent more on their deck. There will be several kinds of ships and other than an aesthetic of various navies of the world, they are the same, so all battleships regardless of nation are the same stats, or all cruisers are the same, etcetera.

There will still be deck builds, for instance a heavy ship deck, or a submarine deck or an aircraft carrier deck, etcetera.

Instead of spells and traps there will be stuff like espionage and sabotage cards which decks can be built around as well.

Instead of life points it'll be troops numbers, where you start with X amount of troops and expend troops to man the ships, if a ship is sunk you lose those troops, if you have no ships deployed the enemy can attack your troop numbers directly, so long as a ship with troops remain, the player is still active even if the base troops are all gone. So it incentives destroying ships as opposed to building decks with stuff like flying to get around and hit the life points.

It's basically a non pay to win model, where the only reason to really spend money is to build a nation fleet, so for example all American ships or all Japanese, but having a USS St.Louis with a IJN Yamamoto battleship would be fine too. But again a IJN Yamamoto would be equivalent to a USS Montana, both being battleships, regardless of real world differences.

Anyways thoughts, comments, concerns?