Jan Garbarek and the Windharp

 

Jan Garbarek is another of those jazz players I discovered via ECM. Like many in the ECM stable he was sideman to many & also a solo leader, so I can’t recall where I first heard him. He is a sax player mainly soprano. I have him in various settings. In the collection are as Lp to cd transfers: Esoteric Circle; Dis, Circle; Red Lanta; Red Lanta/Herbie Mann. In an mp3 collection I have Places/In Praise of Dreams w: Eberhard Weber/Parker/Kitaro/El TrioTucked in other mp3 collections is his Dansere; Sol Do Meio Dia. As stand alones I have: Twelve Moons; Officium; Ragas & Sagas

 

Theses range from the free jazz of Esoteric Circles to the meditative Officium. His soaring sax sound is to distinct I can recognize it in works I have never heard before. At once time I would pick up anything he was playing on. Now I suspect I have enough 🙂 His playing is more ‘intellectual’ than swing or bop. He rarely displays the energy of Coltrane but never becomes as sappy as the, to me, unlistenable Kenny G.

 

He is also a master of sonic tapestry as in Dis which features the use of a Wind-harp that is played by gusts of wind coming in from North Sea, creating tones and overtones. How cool is that. On Officium he plays with the classical Hilliard Ensemble, on Ragas & Sagas he is joined by Pakistani musicians.

 

Not all of his work is this conceptual. But he has never been trapped by one genre or texture. Well worth searching out if you are unfamiliar. Dis is a good starting point, as is any of his work with guitarist Ralph Towner. 

Larking About

No one was sure what it meant. The first order larks were positive this was a sign of unwelcome change. The first order robins, on the other talon, were certain that it boded only the best possible opportunities for all the creatures.

‘No. No. No,’ the larks bounced from branch to branch.

‘Yes. Yes. Yes,’ the robins jumped across the ground. ‘We have nothing to fear.’

‘Fear. Fear. Fear,’ the larks insisted. ‘That fear will unravel the nest of our safe lives here. Something must be done.’

‘Nothing must be done.’ the robins replied. ‘Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.’

‘Stop.’ a second string blue jay rasped. ‘This bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere. Does anyone know where it came from.’

‘Cat. Cat. Cat,’ the larks warned and the birds dispersed. 

A quick fragmented scattering of black, red and blue dots lifted into to the air over the trees and settled on higher perches to wait until the cats left.

‘Well. Well,’ the orange cat purred to the grey puss with him ‘We still have our power.’

‘Not all have fled.’ The grey puss looked up into the tree.

‘Ah. A new nest? Let’s investigate.’ the orange cat sprung up. ‘Coming.’

‘No that’s fine. I’ll wait here for you.’

The orange cat clawed up the side of the tree to the branch where the nest was wedged. 

‘It’s not nest. Just some toy that got tossed up into the air and landed here.’ The cat swatted it with his paw. One eye came loose. ‘Teddy bear.’ 

His claw got caught in the string. A tug, two tugs and it was more knotted up. He yanked and the bear came loose and they both fell to the ground.  The grey puss streaked under the gate.

The orange cat shook himself free, paced the yard, rubbed its scent where it was fading and curled up under the tree. Not asleep. Just waiting for those robins to come back. Tasty treats they were. Robins. Yum. 

‘See. See. See.’ the first robins began. ‘It has brought us luck. No cat has ever climbed so high before. 

‘We should have attacked when they fell.’ the blue jay pecked in the direction of the cat. ‘We would have no trouble ending its life. All of us could have attacked at once. But we’ve lost our chance.’

The orange cat stretched out in the sun its head on the teddy bear’s stomach.

‘See. See. See. They are accomplices. He will never leave. We will have to find new homes.’

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http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday

October 5/6/7 – Gratitude Round-Up

https://www.facebook.com/TorontoGratitudeRoundup/

September or October but to be confirmed – feature – The Art Bar, Free Times Cafe

June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

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Harper Hartman

I first heard Ben Harper on a CMJ (College Music Journal) compilation cd. I like the sample & eventually found the cd Cruel World – I think the song was Mama’s Got A New Girlfriend – a cheerful song about having two moms. I have it as a stand-alone as well as Burn To Shine, & there will be a light.

Harper is adult pop with some folksy, bluesy, even soul undertones. He plays a wicked slide guitar. His voice is appealing & emotional without striving to over-emote. ‘be a light’ features the Blind Boys of Alabama & is uplifting, spiritual without being overly religious. As much as I enjoy his cds I found that three was enough. I’ve heard others but, to be honest, I couldn’t tell one from the other.

A quick word about CMJ. I was a loyal follower of this monthly magazine & loved the compilation cds that introduced me to endless music. They were as eclectic as my collection with sample tracks from jazz, electronic, dance music, blues, pop, punk, rap, world music all on the same cd. The frustrating thing was that often what I really liked was unavailable in Canada.

Near Harper is an lp to cd transfer of Dan Hartman’s Instant Replay, with some tracks from a disco compilation Hot Nights & City Lights. ‘Replay’ was one of the few disco lps that was more than a hit song. Each track had energy & I always love hearing it when it comes up in my play rotation. I remember being compelled to dance to that title song when ever a dj played it, the same was true for Countdown. Hot Nights is a nicely mixed set of classic disco songs such as Boogie Oogie Oogie; Love Is In The Air – all of which make me feel like a teenager coming out 🙂

Pagan

‘Just smell the pine.’ Chris took a deep breath. He nodded to Peter to do the same thing.

‘Yeah. Pine.’ Peter breathed out. He didn’t really smell anything like pine. ‘Not very strong though.’

‘What do you mean?’ Chris pushed aside a branch and held it so Peter could pass. ‘Can’t mistake that smell. Or were you expecting Pinesol?’

‘Yeah. Something like that.’ Peter felt himself redden. In this cold it wouldn’t be noticeable.

‘Something like reality.’ Chris’s laugh echoed through the trees. ‘This is real. This is the goddamned outdoors.’ He stooped and pulled up a clump of snow, dirt. ‘This is the land. Not some high-def image. The soil. Something we don’t get enough of in the city. ’

‘I have enough dirt in my back yard.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Chris scoffed.  ‘All that chemical fertilizer and weed control doesn’t leave much of nature in that soil.’

‘Enough for … ’

‘There it is.’ 

They stopped. Peter saw the tree. Tall. Green. Biggest pine he had ever seen.

‘She is a beauty.’ Peter said.

‘She! Hell, that’s a he tree if I’ve ever seen one.’

‘I’m not going to argue that with you. So we going just gawk or chop.’

‘Neither.’ Chris took off his back pack.

‘I thought we were going to get real trees this year. None of that tree farm shit for us.’

‘Right you are but by real I meant we’d get real ourselves. Here … ’ He handed Peter two red candles. ‘Put one over there and the other directly opposite it. Stick close to the edge of the fir.’

‘You crazy or what.’

‘Trust me.’

‘Okay.’

Chris trod a path around the tree that criss-crossed at several points. In each another candle was placed and lit. A slight wind came up.

‘Next …’ Chris handed him a beer and opened one for himself. ‘repeat after to me … We drink to the spirit of the fir.’

‘We drink to the spirit of the fir.’

‘Now take a swallow and spit it out.’

Peter did.

‘Turn around and do the same thing again.’

Peter did. At first he felt foolish. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching. He closed his eyes and when he opened them the light had changed.

‘You see the difference?’ Chris asked.

‘Yeah? What is this? Some sort of pagan ritual.’

‘Could be. Just intent. Something my Dad showed me once. He said he had to pass it along to someone. Now I’m passing it along to you. We have to revere the land a little. Acknowledge the spirit.’

Peter took a deep breath. He could smell the pine. ‘I smell it.’

‘What?’

‘The pine! The pine! I can really smell it! I smell the earth too.’

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6


http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday

October 5/6/7 – Gratitude Round-Up

https://www.facebook.com/TorontoGratitudeRoundup/

September or October but to be confirmed – feature – The Art Bar, Free Times Cafe

June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

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#SYTYCD 16.2

Can Dance is well into the New Generation season & I have been impressed by the level of commitment of these young dancers – some with amazing technique & emotional expressiveness. It didn’t take them long to learn the classic contemporary gesture – the hand reaching out to the distance while the eyes search for – Toy R’Us? After all these are under 15-year-olds – they can’t be searching for spiritual fulfillment, yet.05box01I’ve been happy to see that the children weren’t being used as props but as equal partners. The choreographers clearly have scaled things a little to encompass the limited knowledge & experience they have to work with. Seeing these kids tackle Fossy was sublime & they pulled it off. That a 10-year is unsure of his cha-cha isn’t unreasonable.05box02There is still a bit too much of ‘kids say the darnedest things’ in the interview sections. I don’t envy the judges – that an eleven-year-old’s jive kick wasn’t as sharp as it could be isn’t surprising – but they are treating the dancers like adults. The ballroom pieces remain problematic for me – the contestants look more like Toddlers In Tiara’s overdressed & sexualized than young girls. In fact all the girls look like young women, while the boys always look like young boys.05box03Ultimately the show sells personality with a healthy dose of talent. So far the contestants eliminated have failed to connect with the public – i.e. not enough personality. The recent double-elimination was done so swiftly I can’t tell who was sent packing, which is a sing of how little they registered as personalities. I just hope they have some serious grief support as the two who were eliminated were stunned & did’t even seem to understand what had happened before the giantess came over to hug them goodbye.05box04For me front-runners are: the youngest JT with surprising technical ability and great screen presence – his contemporary routines have been emotionally resonant; also the tapper Emma – the Salute number was fierce & entertaining.

samp03

Selective Honesty

he asks a leading question

the one to find out

if I’m in to him

if I find him sexually desirable

I don’t want to lead him on

but I also don’t want a discussion

about why I don’t find him sexually desirable

because we have met face to face

we have gotten naked for a play date

but there was no chemistry

I don’t really care if I see him again

I don’t want to be friends

I have enough of those already

that I don’t have time to hang out with

 

I sense that if I say yes to friends

he’ll always have that ‘naked again’ hope

he’ll got pissed at me

for leading him on

because we are socially comfortable

on opposite sides of a table

in a coffee shop

how honest do I need to be

to not come across as cold

indifferent

 

he asks that leading question

which isn’t going to lead

to where he hopes

because even through

there was no sexual chemistry

we both enjoyed it

but for me

enjoyment isn’t enoughsoon02

 

cover170x170-1on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Deliciously iTunes

September 1-4: attending FanExpo 2016 (I’ve already registered)

expo16

https://www.facebook.com/fanexpocanada/?fref=ts

October  6 – Thursday Toronto, 8 pm, Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander St.

et

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanobullseye

http://nanowrimo.org/

December – Thursday Dec 1st – Toronto, 8 pm, Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander St.divine

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

6DC0301

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm startgames

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

June 2-4: attending: Capturing Fire 2017 –

newcap

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from Capturing Fire 2015: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCx5KD1eDccdjdTdQ28kZRNg

money

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Dave Clark Cock.er

I remember having the hots for Dave Clark after seeing a photo of him wearing a white shirt & no pants; he had pulled the shirt down so one wasn’t sure if he had on undies or not. Hairy legs did the trick.18bed01I have their complete works tucked away on some BeeGee’s mp3 discs. But I also have this is stand alone of their greatest hits. I enjoyed their music thanks to consistent radio play. A sweet British semi-soul group with lots of direct pop as well. Catch if You Can always cheers me up. (more Dave Clark Five)18bed02Next on the shelf is a cd of lp to cd transfers of Joe Cocker. I remember his first appearance TV. Within days kids were looking for Cocker shirts – that tie-died underwear top he was wearing. His almost spastic singing style made him appear more radical than he actually was.18bed03His first two lps were full of great music – fun  interpretations of songs I already liked from Leonard Cohen, to The Lovin’ Spoonful – even the Beatles. He made them fresh and earthy. As he became more popular he seemed to loose creative stream & I lost interest in him after these first two releases. I did hear other stuff but nothing that made me want to have it. 18bed04Rounding out this cd are some tracks from a double lp completion of Stevie Winwood. Here I have some of his Spenser Davis work that is prime Brit pop stuff. Another of those soul voices. Good stuff, he was even better with Traffic mind you.sample

Meeting

Naked, once again Jeff wondered if it was worth the humiliation. He knew that if he didn’t have each item correct the meeting would be a fiasco. The wrong socks could be disastrous but not as malevolent as incorrect underwear. If he got those basics right for once he knew everything else would have to fall in place.

He kicked away the pile of boxer shorts he had tried on and removed. He needed something in basic black brief for crying out loud. Something simple and sincere and all he had were these grey and green and white – white! who ever thought of white undershorts for men should have their butt examined.

Perhaps these dark blue ones would be okay. Snug but not tight. Yes just the right sensation, the right support for his contentions. ‘Contentions’ what a great word for balls.

Now for socks. Anything but white – white was so high school gym class – so not adult and he had to feel adult to appear adult. Great a blue pair that matched‚ the undies. Now we’re cooking with under garments.

With the basics finally under control he felt ready for facing the day. The rest of his clothes would be no problem. Clean shirt, grey twill pants, and shoes. Oh Christ what shoes? Which ones? He wanted to be comfortable, not over dressed, but not sloppy either. Deck shoes, Oxfords, Nikes, saddle shoes, penny loafers, nothing plain! Oh God he was going to have to start all over again. He yanked his socks and underwear off and threw them at the wall. Why was it always like this? He thought only silly girls would have this problem but here he was a full grown adult male who couldn’t even get dressed in the morning.

He might as well go to the meeting naked. No that wouldn’t do. He could never show the world the skimpy black hair that raced along his legs in uneven tufts. That would be too shameful. No, he needed to hide that, to hide his contentions as well. Not that they weren’t full and strong – a man’s contentions – but perhaps they too needed to be guarded from the judgmental eyes of others.

He put on the undies and socks he had just pulled off. They would be fine. Plain black shoes would be fine. He had to get dressed. He had to get out of the apartment and down to the elevator. After shave? Cologne? Should he take another shower? All this clothing crap had made him sweat like a pig. No, he didn’t have time for another shower. He had to keep moving. Keeping going.


 

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not sleeping together

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Know Your Status

Deliciously Disabled’s recent podcast on getting for sdt’s brought back to me the first time I was tested, way back in the early 80’s. Initial hurdle was to get there getting the right times at Hassle Free. Men and women had different days and times of the day. Next hurdle was my sense of deep shame – it didn’t dissipate even though the staff were more indifferent than anything else.15red07The questions about my sexual activity were awkward. Unlike Deliciously Disabled who had to convince the professionals that he even had sex, I was unwilling to admit how little sex I had had. Then there was the admonishing for even that little bit – no, not admonishing, but merely being told about protection. I slut shamed myself.15red08Swabs, blood draws were no problem compared to the waiting. Once there was a confirmation. I had been sullied!! My self shame flared up: I was getting was I deserved for enjoying the sex I experienced. Naming names. Meds, shots in the butt – returns for further testing.15gold09Along came HIV and the testing & waiting was even more fraught with stress and shame. Now it was more than self-shame. It was condemnation by the medical community – how could you not be more careful? Why don’t you stop having sex?

I got over some of that but not completely. That sort of slut shaming remains rampant but is less direct. It’s not as if the right to marry is protection against std. But that’s another blog post.15snow03I get tested regularly, more frequently it seems than I have sex 🙂 Now I’m more stressed by waiting room ettiequte. How many free condom/lube packets are too many? Is cruising the other guys waiting okay? Know your status.

samples

Will

where does my will

my right to choose

start

and the ways I have been

seduced by culturally encoded definitions

take over

do I ever even start to think for myself

when everything

is plunked down in front me

like a meal I didn’t order

but have got to eat

encoded like the bars in a prison cell

when the only crime I committed

is being born

where is choice

in a nation where colour is guilt

where sexuality is approved

where male female are the official roles

self determination is limited by

what is approved of by others

 

cure by label

acceptance by diagnosis

guilt by association

labels that can’t be contested

even when they are self-applied

guilty even when proved innocent

 

I’m told that if I desire men

these are the ones I am to desire

these are the ones not to desire

or

these are the ones out of your league

these are the ones

no one wants to desire

these are the ones

everyone wants

so you should want them too

if you don’t

there is something wrong with you

not with them

you must have low self-esteem

you must be sick in the head

not normal

falling between the cracks of definition

of what queer cultures says you should be

have to be

to have the right to choose

to have the opportunity

to be the chosen one

though my will tells me

there are worse things

than not being among the chosen many

 

http://nanowrimo.org/

money

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Pitch Perfect Petch

Charlie Petch brought us the Bum’s Rush at The Cameron House after a smash run in Peterborough. The inventive vaudeville show structure allows Charlie to wow us with their ability to play the saw, sing, dance, tell stories while deconstructing gender, identity expectations & home repair (when is a saw not a saw? when it’s a personal entertainment device). Smartly staged in the backroom at the Cameron House, the space was perfect for the vaudeville house feel. The SRO house also added to the feeling of a crammed, dusty old theatre.12cath01As their character Mel Malarkey says at one point ‘The body you’re born into may not reflect the person inside it.’ This vaudeville production you see reflects more than the acts perform. Text, subtext, meta-text all flow together seamlessly in CP’s MM. One need not know any of the subtext to enjoy the entraining structure of the show.12dclt02Mel hosts, talks between acts to a dressing room mirror (us as the audience are in the place of the mirror), fills in backstory. On stage Mel shifts between characters, accents & even interacts with the other ‘performers.’ I love the eye to eye moment with the Dancing Donkey. Mel sings, plays the saw, impersonates Dietrich at one point, revels in the opportunity to question our perception of gender, the struggle of being a woman dressed as a man who knows what a woman wants.12yellow08The show was well researched. I particularly liked the inclusion of The Dumbells: a WWI Canadian army entertainment troupe that specialized in female impersonators was a resonant choice for this show. It’s always heartening when lgbtq history is used this effectively & subtly as the same time. 12red04Charlie Petch performance was animated, touching and flush with the joy of being on stage. I am tickled when a performer clearly loves what they are doing. Em Glasspool, director and accompanist, was the perfect piano playing Greek chorus. This is a show that deserves to be seen by more SRO audiences and I hope it finds its way into the Fringe, or Summer Works and then gets expanded for a full blown Pantages run.

samplesend song

the float of cups spoons
moons leaves
wet midnights broken by laugher
left to reflect on the puddles
red sticky slicks that caress the stage
invite the applause of over-hanging gaspers
soon to be disgraced with apologies
wondering not aloud

what if this isn’t the moment

to leap up once and for all

get it over with
no beginnings only ends
only a bar counter to wipe ready
for weary prisoners to stop rest gripe
about the fairness of their sentence
how they deserve what they want
and they want it now piping hot
heaped dishes of freshly chopped
branches of moon strung stings
to replace the end of things

we all know that end is looming
bigger than that pole-dancer’s ass

that hovers over your out-stretched glass
another drop pretty pretty please
please squeeze harder we know you can do it
before the song changes
it has to be on that note
the universal choir
chasing clouds of notes around
looking for the car keys put down in a hurry
your car running in the garage

who is in the back seat drifting
as the red slick sends
reflection of spoons to the moon
each prisoner barely turning
in their stools asking
are we up to guessing what comes next

dancing donkeys

or the end of things

 

money

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Onda Nueva #Byrd

Charlie Byrd2bluechair01Charlie Byrd (not to be confused with Jackie Byard) is a sublime, evocative jazz guitarist. Acoustic master of the samba beat. His sound is crisp, sometime stark in solo setting & playing in a group setting.2bluechair05On the shelf I have stand alone’s: Bossa Nova; lps to cd transfers: Brazilian/Let Go; Brazilian/Onda Nueva/Villa-Lobos; store bought Homage to Jobim. Plus his beautiful Christmas Album on an MP3 collection of various Christmas music. My introduction to his was finding Let Go: a live set with a small combo taking on standards (Satin Doll) & Latino (Let Go). His playing avoids lounge but is never challenging to listen to either. This set includes a fine flute player (no credits on the lp that I transferred this from) who I suspect is Paul Horn. 2bluechair06The two cds of lp transfers along with his Brazilian Byrd – great introduction to Jobim & others; Onda Nueva – he works with a jazz orchestra; Villa-Lobos – a solo set of classical work. Let Go is a great live recording.2woodchair08On the store bought’s Bossa Nova & Homage to Jobim he explores Brazilian classics, standard even more some with small combo, others with jazz orchestra. What I enjoy most is that none of this turns into exotica lounge jazz, or easy listening pablum. Polished, inviting and sometimes sublime. If you are a fan of acoustic jazz guitar this Byrd is for you.sample

Golden Light

The Shimmering Forest rose silent from the depths of the Mirror Pool of Dalgrana. The translucent drops of  water from the bottom of the pool formed perfect pearls as they were exposed the air. Each pearl fell back into the pool, silent, swift, splashless.

Over head the first rays of the morning sun tickled their way through the heavy cloud cover. The rim of Shata Mountain was ringed by this constant heavy cloud. The Shimmering Forest took its moisture form these black clouds, the Mirror Pool of Dalgrana took its moisture, its being from these dense clouds. The sun had its work cut out for it each day, for each day it would attempt to whittle the clouds away so its brilliant light could warm the Mirror Pool. Each day it  failed.

Till this day, for as the Shimmering Forest rose it pushed through the clouds in search of true light, to break free from the icy hold the the Mirror Pool of Dalgrana.

In Dim Valley far below there was a huzzah as the peasants realized the magnitude of what was happening.

‘Lars go fetch Father Kialom. He must dispatch a message to the Prince Reganet.’

‘Yes mutter. Shall we alert Fraanklat at the garrison.’

‘No Lars my son this is a matter for God and not for men of arms.’

‘Pray tell me mutter what is it? What is happened to the Mountain.’

They looked up at the glistening light that sent spokes of sun through the dark clouds. Villagers rushed around them in panic.

‘We must escape … ’

‘It is the end of the world … ‘

‘It is the end of the Valley… ’

‘There will be floods. Mark my words, floods.’

‘Mutter dear, will there be floods?’

‘No, my son. These fools do not know the story, the lore, they only know what the tabloids tell them. Now you must run to the good Father. He will know.’

‘What do I tell him?’

‘Tell him the Shimmering Forest has finally rose from the depths of the Mirror Pool of Dalgrana.’

‘The Shimmering Forest? But that is just a faury tale mutter. I cannot tell him such a thing.’

His mother slapped him. Hard.

‘You will do as you are told. Run. Run.’

Lars ran to the Catherdiaral. It’s dull yellow dome a sudden brilliant gold as a ray of light struck it. A gold unlike anything he had ever seen in his life.

soon

cover170x170-1on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Deliciously iTunes

April 19: judging: Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Season 2 finale: 8 p.m. : Buddies In Bad Times Theatre – 12 Alexander St., Toronto, Ontario

12898413_10153547776485840_600096494201986262_o

Hot Damn!

order tickets now

June 3-5: attending: Capturing Fire 2016 – The DC Centre – 2000 14th St NW, Suite 105 – Washington, DC

nufire

https://www.facebook.com/capturingfire/

June 11 – attending: The Toronto Poetry Talks – 10 AM – Metro Hall, 55 John Street, Toronto, Ontario M5V 3C6

poetrytalk

https://www.facebook.com/events/147955055574679/

September 1-4: attending FanExpo 2016 (I’ve already registered)

expo16

https://www.facebook.com/fanexpocanada/?fref=ts

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanobullseye

http://nanowrimo.org/

money

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

chair

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The Killer Wants To Know

lamentfor some reason WordPress has imposed line breaks where none are in the original:-(

The Killer Wants To Know You

the killer wondered
how long it took for blood to dry
he never left a crimson spatter pattern
he didnʼt leave clues
there was so much about death
that he didnʼt understand

like how long it took for blood to dry
did it get absorbed
would it slather the surface
and clot cake dry
become flakey then powder
be blown away

in the morning breeze

could it be resurrected by rain

he knew what was released on death
the bowel bladder
abrupt shudderings
that were the price of what he did
to liberate this world
from all these unnecessary fucks
all these jerk offs
who didnʼt see how precious life was
until he would suddenly confront them
in the washroom of a noisy bar
music pounding so loudly
people thought the the thump

on the stall door

was someoneʼs fun drug reaction

but most of them didnʼt know
how long it took for blood to dry
not that he asked them
why worry them with more
than how good is the coke

he offered

then push them into a stall
squeeze
life gone
him gone out the door
his impression around the neck

satisfying and simple

but now he had something

new to learn

he had to find out

hello stranger

6steps01

Here I step even deeper in the mind of this killer. Allowing his thoughts to seem almost normal invites the reader to get closer to the abnormal. He wonders about the stuff we’ve also seen on so many crime shows – shows, I’m sure, that have become educational to whole new generations of serial killers.6steps02

I pushed this piece into an even more ‘hands on’ scenario – each piece had escalated the explicitness of his actions. That is part of the flow for me – to start easy – that childhood memory of Aunt Sally leads the reader into that washroom stall. Starting there would have been too much too soon.6steps03

All the forensic references here are from TV. I’ve never gone deeper into them or want to. One of things that rarely gets mentioned though in any crime scene show is what the body does on death – bowels often loosen, there can be vomiting. I guess that stuff is too graphic for movies & TV. So that happens here.6steps04

The washroom stall occurred to me as I was writing this section. I used it to reflect the degree of planning in the killer’s mind. He knows where to strike. How to make a get away. His desire for new knowledge shows he needs new stimulation, that he’s willing to learn to get ahead in his chosen career. Even serial killers need fresh motivation.

You, of course, are the stranger.

soon

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#Chicago #Revolution

I remember how revolutionary the band Chicago was when it first hit the airwaves. A double album to top it off, with that exciting (but now seemingly endless) Free Form Guitar noodle. Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is quickly became a joke meme as opposed to the deeply probing philosophic lyric it intended to be.

8furniture01I did love that first album – the actual crowd chant ‘the whole world is watching’ from give it a real sense of political activism & counter culture cache. The horns were energizing, the singing was masculine & the covers song were fun. Nearly every band covered I’m A Man.8furniture02Chicago I is loose & adventurous in ways Blood, Sweat & Tears (the other horn band of the time) never was. Chicago II is quite different. Slicker & artier: with a Ballet suite & the 4 movement piece. They shift to a more m.o.r pop sound. People who dug that first lp were disappointed in this one. I loved it though. Fancy Colours is a great, happy song with sweet wah-wah work.8furniture03I have these first 2 as stand alone’s. Both searched  out in early 2000’s when I was rebuilding my past via CD. I later sought out Chicago III – the last of their double albums. It’s part of an mp3 collection along with work by Traffic, CSNY. III become less horn & more guitar. No long suites of songs but solid writing but by this point they weren’t breaking new ground & some tracks felt more like fillers so they could squeeze out yet another double lp.8furniture04At one time I had their live box set – five lps, or was it six, of nearly note for note reproductions of their studio work. It seemed to go on forever & I finally gave it away. They needed to develop beyond their initial sound to really hold my interest. Rather becoming adventerous they became banal. Finding new ways of printing the Chicago logo on their covers wasn’t enough. But those first 2 recordings are fine.

sample

Casuality

‘Far be it from me to point this out but, Mr. Palmer, your opinion of Kant will not be the revelation you seem to think it is.’

‘Have it your way, Mr. Green, but the way to a man’s intellect will always be through the bottle and no other way.’

‘Indeed, Mr. P indeed. Shall I pour or shall you?’

‘Why bother pouring at all, my friend.’ Mr. Palmer tipped the bottle and took two eye stinging gulps from it. He wiped it and passed over to Mr Green.

‘Ah, yes, nothing like sweet simplicity.’

‘Yes, the more simple one keeps one’s exterior world the easier it is to support the complex philosophic structures that our intellects need.’

The sun broke through the leafy canopy of the tree over the bench the two men sat on. Both shaded their eyes at the same time.

‘Now as I was saying. Kant may have missed the point but he was certainly moving in the right direction. That being isn’t necessarily the result of events but of actions.’

‘Tut tut Mr. P I doubt if that was Kant’s intention in any way shape or form. He was more inclined to feel, and in this I have to concur, that being is just as often the result of events outside the individual consciousness as it is to be from else where. May I?’

‘Of course.’ Mr. Palmer handed the bottle back to Mr. Green. Both drank deep with great satisfaction.

‘You seem content to elide over Sartre and Nietzsche.’

‘Those useless faggots.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘But isn’t that also the result of forces outside their individuation.’

‘Now your are getting Freudian on me.’

‘No! But sometimes a drink is just a drink.’ He emptied the bottle. ‘I do hope there is another.’

‘Ask and ye shall receive.’ Mr. Green pulled another bottle of  amber liquid from inside his dingy overcoat. ‘One must always be prepared for what it takes to hew new paths in the road of thought.’

‘No matter who the casualty might  be.’

‘Right ho. Now join me in a libation before we fix our bayonets for the next attack.’

‘Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.’ Mr. Palmer drank deep. A shudder ran through his arms and hands. ‘Not our usual intoxicant?’

‘Sadly no. The outside forces have seen fit to provide only this.’

‘Ah, welfare cut you back again?’

‘No the old lady wanted money for the kids.’

‘Too bad you hadn’t considered that when you plunged into the flesh my friend.’

‘What’s a man to do.’

‘Sublimate. Channel that fierce energy into the intellect. It is falling into the flesh that has been the downfall of all.’

‘Yes but isn’t that the innate urge God has instilled in all of us?’

‘God! Why man I thought we rationalized God out of the equation yesterday?’

‘So we did. So where does that leave us.’

‘Fucked if I care. Pass me the goddamn bottle.’

soon

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Georgia Preach

My Tumblr feed has been keeping me updated on queer life in sunny, freedom loving Georgia. The politicians there wanted to protect people’s freedom of religion & their right to obey their religions strictures in their daily lives. If the lifestyles of some people went against those strictures they would be free to refuse to interact with such ‘untouchables.’1asky01

They could rightfully refuse service to any lgbtq person – so no apartment rentals if you didn’t want that scum in your apartment building, no blood transfusion if a trans person showed up at your station in the e.r. The right to protect one’s faith was more important than compromising ones religious integrity to accommodate such ‘untouchables’.1asky02

After being passed by a substantial majority in the Georgia senate (or whatever that level of state government is called) it scarily became law. It was vetoed by the governor. Why? Because of financial pressure: the NFL, Disney & others big buck corporations threatened to pull all their involvement with a state that wasn’t inclusive for all people.1asky03

To me this smacked of ‘gay panic’ as a legitimate defence for murder. The weakness being there was often no proof of the other person’s sexuality, it was enough the that one feared they were queer. So if the Georgia law passed one would only need to suspect the person was queer to deny them their rights. Or in other words it was the perfect excuse to justify bias toward anyone you chose. The ‘religious freedom’ the law protected was Christian, as far as I can tell, and it’s not a big step to using it to deny Muslims, Jewish people, Tibetan Lama’s the right to eat in your ‘Christian’ restaurant.

1asky04

I also wondered if the reverse would be true – Islamic doctors refusing to take on Christian patients on the basis of religious strictures? Imagine the outcry if that happened. Which could be the case in South Carolina whose Governor didn’t have the sense to veto their freedom to discriminate law. Sadly similar anti-lbgtq laws are on the horizon in several souther state under rather guise of protecting religious freedom. I wonder what innocent, straight, white people will do when someone opts to use the law on them – trust me that will surely happen.samp01

Order

it’s said

man plans

the universe laughs

there is an order

that I am unaware of

like the micro algae in the ocean

my eye can never see

infinite finite placements

the building blocks of life

not blocks – spirals

a geometry that is everywhere

down to our chromosomes

to the speedy disbursements of stars

as the cosmos flies apart

taking us along for the ride

so I line things up order

against this chaos

to enforce some routine

to flow with what flows around me

without being dragged along

kicking and scheming

to make sure it all goes the same way

each and every time

I leave the house

there is a direction

a plan if not goal

but I have to stay open

because the universe

is going to laugh at me

at any given moment

I am ready to hear that laugh

as it gets expressed as

an unexpected thunder storm

a friend I run into

where I least expect to

the opportunity I wasn’t looking for

but the one I’ll take

because my plans aren’t shackles

my disappointments aren’t dead ends

just because the universe laughs

doesn’t mean I make no plans

if I didn’t

even I would have nothing

to laugh at

soon02

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June 3-5: attending: Capturing Fire 2016 – The DC Centre – 2000 14th St NW, Suite 105 – Washington, DC

September 1-4: attending FanExpo 2016 (I’ve already registered)expo16

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November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

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