Around World Music

By Rip Slyme, a Japanese hip hop group I have Good Times (2010) a hits compilation. Think Beastie Boys in Japanese. Densely layered, sampled, bouncy & fun. Lyric content? Who know? The vocals are strong, emotional & hit that hip-hop rhythm. Having to identify with the lyrics is a blessing as it allows the vocals to be yet another layer to the sound not a layer of meaning that distracts from the sound. I ‘discovered’ them while researching Japanese pop for one of the characters in my novel Picture Perfect. This is hip-hop & not J-Pop.

I saw a Señor Coconut video & loved the playful surrealist images. Turns out this is actually one of several names for German electronica composer Uwe H. Schmidt, now living in Chile. Around the World (2008) is a sweet set of Latino. techno pop jazzy Latino music – elevated lounge music for today’s hipsters. I love it even though I’m no hipster. 

By Chieko Kinbara, the Japanese violinist, I have ‘A Espera’ (2002) a soothing Enya-esque set of song, relaxing without being Celtic or boring. Thanks to some electrobeat & ethereal vocals in what I presume is Japanese. Another I discovered in research for Picture Perfect. Too serene for the character in the novel though.

Alyans is Russian synth pop/rock band. I have Скачать и слушать На Заре (1987) 2000, «Сделано в белом» (1992). Another YouTube discovery after seeing a video of theirs & deciding I needed some Soviet pop in my collection. Think Bauhaus, Erasure but more somber with excellent synth work & broody vocals, & eyeliner. Who knew the Soviets even allowed such dangerous music. Three guys on keyboards & best of all you don’t need to understand Russian to enjoy the vibe. 

 Jeremy Dutcher: Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa (2018) Canadian Indigenous tenor, composer, musicologist, performer and activist. Add two-spirited as well. This is an amazing, dense, modern album that defies categorization. It won awards for best native aboriginal music but this is bigger than that as it straddles pop & classical & demonstrates that there is an accessible Canadian avant guard. 

 Finally by Sasanomaly, a Chinese water/performer I have Obake to Omocha Bako (2015) Similar to Chieko Kinbara this is gentle electrobeat that is not as ethereal but even not knowing the language it has a pleasant emotional pull. Goes against the grain of most JPop hyper bounciness. Similar to Troye Sivan.

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Shostakovich

 

I can’t say that I’m a big fan of Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich (1906 – 1975) but in my collection I do have, either as stand-alone or mp3, the following Ballet Suites; Cello Concertos; Piano Concertos; Piano Trios; Symphonies 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11 13; Mussorgsky Songs. Truth be told I am more a fan of stirring patriotic, almost propaganda, music, than of Shostakovich.

This collection started with an lp of a piano concerto. Through MHS I added some cassettes of a couple of the symphonies & his ballet music. Later, thanks to sales at HMV or Sams I picked up some of the other symphonies. I enjoy the chamber music control of piano trios so it seemed natural to add these as well.

Although much of his writing was done under USSR state control, command & approval he managed to impart some personality & even humour into his compositions. There is nothing radical in any of his music. He was never as emotionally lyrical as Tchaikovsky but his symphonies are as epic as Beethoven’s sweeping visas. The influence of both Mahler & Stravinsky are evident in the symphonies. 

One on the mp3 cds I added Ancient Echos of Russian “a cappella” male choir songs. Sublime & one of the bass singers supposed has one of the deepest voices ever recorded. I admit to enjoying the religious sombreness of these songs without needing to know what they’re singing or having any abiding belief in the religious context either. Soothing & resonant. Try it you might become a believer yourself 🙂

This is a piece I wrote in the early 80’s. It was unfinished so the ending is ‘new.’ 

Down The Drain

2

“You’ve really done it now.” My words slurred so I couldn’t make them out. I stepped forward but there was no strength in my legs. I crumpled & fell back onto the couch.

He leaned forward to touch my eye but I jerked away, afraid that his touch would cause more pain. Clumsily using the back of the couch & then the wall for support I dragged myself to the bathroom.

Leaning heavily against the sink my awareness slipped away briefly. I came to with a jolt staring at myself in the mirror. The blue of my eyes, the blood, the paler blue of the sink, the effusion of blood drips in the water. One eye bruised & already withdrawn into a black hole in my face.

Splashing cold water on my face the rest of my body started to respond. The shock gave way to actual pain as I slumped backward, dizzy on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Jim,” I called out involuntarily. How a part of me could still trust him. “Jim, help me. I can’t seem …”

An ice-filled cloth stopped my mumble. Strong arms held me up & gently guided me to the bedroom. His words scurried into my ear. Fast, whispered, half-sobbed words I could barely hear or comprehend. My name was being repeated over & over. It circled overhead, pulled my consciousness away with it. It called me to supper. My mother calls to me up the stairs.

“Donald. Donald.”

I knew it was only the first call to supper. I couldn’t reply because my voice would betray me, it would take my attention away from the moment. My jeans around my ankles, one hand on my cock & the other touched the cock in a magazine. My mind fixed on what that perfect cock would feel like, taste like, push like.

Jacking faster, afraid that my mother would come in at any moment, I drop the magazine to watch the play of my fist around my dick. I visualize the rock hard muscles of the stud in the magazine flex as they pulled me closer to him, as his cock sank deep into my ass, as my cock would plunge into his. Harder & faster. I flipped the page over for another pose of the same inviting stud.

Her heavy footsteps on the stairs. Harder faster. Moaning I can barely keep going but I lunge toward release. A knock on the door.

“Are you coming down to supper Don?”

I laugh a little, want to say ‘Yes mother I’m coming for supper.’ The muscle spasm & come on my fist, my face. 

“Yeah Ma.” I finally answer, hope my voice betrays nothing. “I was just taking a nap.” I lick come off my fingers. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

I rub a gob of my come on the dick in the magazine. Unaware that my door has swung open at her knock, I lick the come off. It tastes like ink.

“Donald!”

My name flies at me from the open door as an accusation. A briefly clutched apron & then a slam rebounds before I can roll away to hide myself. The slam hums as my ears burn red with confusions, confessions.

“Donald. Donald.”

It persists becomes louder & less like my mother. Someone else. As my ears open in another direction I try to recall how old I was then, was it that long ago.

“Donald. Donald.”

My head turns slowly to the flutter of my name. My eyes, one less than the other, shyly opens.

Jim’s eyes are the greenest I’ve ever seen. Perhaps that’s because I’ve looked longer into & for them. My heart & head aches with a realization that I do love this man but I don’t know how to tell him without seeming weak, without seeming less than a man myself. His hand reaches out cautiously, tenderly touches my lip. I feel a twinge of pain, a recollection of how of this pain started. I pull away stiffly.

part 3 next week

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Scriabin

 By Alexander Scriabin (1871-1915) Russian, I have stand alone double cd sets: Piano Sonatas 1 2, Symphonies 1 2; lp to 4 cds transfers of solo piano music that includes mazurkas, etudes etc. As mp3: symphonic poems: Prométhée, Le Poème du feu; Le Poème de l’extase; Piano Concerto. 

The lp transfer were of a VoxBox 3 lps set. Much of this is influenced by Chopin & delights, if you like Chopin. Romantic, sometimes a bit cloying but never as over-the-top as, say, Liszt. He doesn’t say too far from the various forms & like all Russian composers incorporates fold melodies. They don’t break new ground. The Piano Sonatas – the early ones are traditional but as he ages they become more sonorously challenging when he moves into atonal scales. Dense & brilliant.

Scriabin invented the light show! He was influenced by his synesthesia, and associated colours with various harmonic tones. Some of his orchestral works were meant to be performed with coloured lights proved by a colour organ – which created an effect similar to the aurora borealis. This did give rise to a resurgence of interest in him during the trippy 60’s, 70’s. 

So when I listen to his Symphonies or symphonic poems I try to imagine colours. The liner notes to the cds might have clues but I’d rather let my own slight synesthesia take over. Symphonic tone poems was/is popular form in which the composer creates a mood. Debussy’s La mer is a prime example. They are often impressionist & without really reaching a dramatic climax. Scriabin’s tone poems – Prométhée, Le Poème du feu; Le Poème de l’extase – are more moody than anything else. Relaxing, ethereal & spiritually up lifting. Try them.  

Just a reminder that this story goes back, way back, to the mid-70’s, when I was living in Cape Breton. I have done minimal editing for things like spellings, punctuation & name consistency. As you may gather I was not out at the time but clearly wrestling with the process.

No Fanfare 4

I sat back in the chair & pulled on my other boot. He want angrily back tot he stern & shoved on the record. Soft, blurred guitar hovered in the silence between us.

“I didn’t …” Afraid that I had lost this chance, I wanted to explain what I intended but couldn’t rationalize his feeling of being used inot a scene in which that wasn’t true.

“Oh, shove off. I’m bored with apologies.” He sat at the piano & began playing along with the album.

“Do you want me to leave?” The sting of tears had become an anger; an anger I tried to keep out of my voice. Anger toward myself for not cutting clear enough through my confusions, anger for expecting easy motions, anger with him for turning his back on me. I felt I had to stay; not ‘had to’ but ‘wanted to’. I’d been so involved with my own inner struggles I hadn’t expected to find someone else with them & was willing to open up about them the way I wanted to to be about mine. Jean always claimed to feel she was the closed one but I’m sure she even realized what was troubling me. Perhaps she was more afraid of confronting me with it that I was on telling her.

“Do you want me to leave?” I repeated louder, to make sure he heard me over the music.

The muscle sun his back poised to continue as stopped playing. “Whatdo you think?”

The bitter edge to his voice made me look up as I was unlacing the one boot I had tied. “I think I’d like one more for the road.”

“Why bother?” He bristled, once again picking out the melody of the piece on the stereo.

“Because,” dropping one boot, “I’m” dropping the other “scared. Afraid that if I leave I may no be able to face myself for losing this opportunity. Maybe this is using you. I don’t know. I hope it isn’t.”

Determinedly I went to him, still unsure of how to my words but needing to reach him, unsure of where to put my hands but wanting to touch him. I sat on the bench beside him. Keeping his back to me he straddle dit with the same easy motion of his leg.

I had expected to be coaxed not to coax. Putting my arms around him from behind I pulled him closer, one hand feeling his heartbeat, the other rubbing the tightness of his stomach.

“What am I suppose to say? I’m no rapist, either.”

Steve put his hands on mine, caressing them.

“You seem to be saying more than I thought you could.”

His caress became a squeeze as he pushed my hands down.

“I still think you haven’t realized just way you have to come to grips with.”

There was a light laugh with ‘grips’ as he pushed my hands down to his bulging crotch. 

“I realize I should know better but if this going to be the start of your voyage, you’d better understand that this is the point of no return.”

He pressed my cupped hands onto him. I felt him become as aroused as I had already become. I recalled my easy appraisal of his corduroy stretching equipment when he stood before not so long ago. Minutes that now seemed a long, distant, embarrassing yet fondly recalled memory. The meeting in the park seemed to stretch further into the past.

“So you’ve never touched another man, eh, Dave? How does it feel?”

He released my hands. Savouring this new anticipation my fingers moved gently over this zipper, timidly down the sorrows of the corduroy that separated them from actual contact with his flesh.

I bit his earlobe & whispered. “It feels alright. Super.”

Turning slowly, he stood to face me, pulling me to my feet, his hands touch me as mine were touching him. 

“Does this conflict with your image of yours?” He chuckled huskily.

We were face-to-face. 

“Yes.” I kissed him quickly. “Did you expect it not?”

I kissed him again, slower. Although I didn’t completely fathom this, I knew I wanted him. Not out of loneliness or love but out of lust. Me a man, wanting this man,I wold have to accept & experience this even if I never fully understood. Understanding wasn’t a solution anyway.

He stepped back, unbuttoning my shirt. “See, there’s no fanfare. No thunder. No hell fire.”

Our eyes met as I began unbuttoning his shirt.

“At least the fear has gone for your eyes.” He said.

“It might be,” flesh touched flesh, tongues again, “but not from here,” I Laughed, patting my heart. “Let’s have that drink.”

Steve was right, there was no fanfare, no earth shaking. Even the sense of relief I’d expected had only been enough to make me laugh. It seemed so foolish. Poor Jean, all the confusions & hurt because of a part of me, an awkward mortalness that I’d let hurt because I was afraid it would hurt me more.

Even if acceptance didn’t make anything easier, it would, I hoped, bring some form of ending, a feeling of completeness. Once I learned the scope of lust maybe I could even cope with love. All I see now is a beginning, a start. At least I see that much. 

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Prokofiev

Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953), is best known for a short movement in his Romeo & Juliette ballet suite, which I do have but was never that taken by. I have a double cd collection of The 5 Piano Concertos. As well as an 8.8 hr mp3 collection that includes his Complete Piano Sonatas, Complete Symphonies, & the Ballet Suites: The Buffoon, Love For Three Oranges, Waltz Suite, Romeo & Juliette.

 

At one time I had the Piano Sonatas as a MHS box set & an lp of one of the concertos. I upgraded to the Sonatas mp3 & found a double cd set of the Piano Concertos. I love piano music & Prokofiev straddles the gap between romantic & modern nicely. Not as lushly melodramatic as Tchaikovsky the concertos are excellent, the sonatas are emotional, lyrical but with a more mathematic sense of structure – not as florid as Chopin.

The Symphonies, which I have as mp3, become more modern & sweeping like Shostakovich but not as dissonant. Like many Russian composers Prokofiev makes use of stirring Russian folks songs that us delightful, somewhat patriotic & satisfying. If you are unfamiliar start with the piano concertos.

 

One thing I enjoy about many of many eastern European composers is the use of their folk melodies to create amazing, emotionally commanding music that even without being from there myself I am filled with a sense of losing & nostalgia. I have found little North American classical music does that to me. Is there an epic, sweeping symphony based on, say, Native American musical themes?

Green

“Apples bin Irish peace.”

“Yes. Go on.”

“I can’t think of anything more.”

Dr. Clarke put down his pen. “I see.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know. You tell me?”

“I wish I could think of more. Really. Sometimes my mind just goes blank … or so many things flash that I can’t grab them all. Don’t know which ones to say and as I start saying them the others darken. Disappear. Blank. I’m left with a blank.”

“That can happen. Try to relax. Green?”

“Peace. Did I say that already? I’m so afraid of repeating myself that I can’t think of anything to say. Nothing comes to me. I want to go.”

“You can leave anytime. If you want to get well you have to try harder.”

“I don’t see how this helps.”

“It helps me to find patterns of thinking. What does peace mean to you?”

“Peace? I’ve never thought about peace. Really. I guess it means like gardens and butterflies. Quiet. No, maybe some birds singing. Yeah and kittens chasing the butterflies around. Yeah, that’s what peace means to me.’

“That’s a postcard picture of peace but go deeper than a picture.”

“Peace isn’t perfection, is it? that’s what you want to me say isn’t it. Peace is impossible, it only exists in my imagination not in the world out there. There is no peace. Never ever going to be peace. Peace would be boring as fuck anyway. You know that, don’t you? Impossible.”

“Take a breath. That’s not what I mean but peace has a cost. In your picture who mows the lawn? Who plants the flowers? Peace isn’t an abstract thing.”

“I’m never going to get well, am I”

“Ready for the next word?”

“Yes.”

“Family.”

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January
Thursday January 23 – Hot Damn! It’s Queer Slam – Buddies and Bad Times Theatre – featuring ‘Yes The Poet’ https://www.facebook.com/events/577900226377507/ 

Sunday –  January 26 – 1:30 – feature: The Secret Handshake Gallery, 170A Baldwin (Kensington Market) – 1:30https://www.facebook.com/events/498405247456842/

March
March 5 – Hot Damn! It’s Queer Slam – Buddies and Bad Times Theatre

April
April 3 – Hot Damn! It’s Queer Slam – Season 6 finales Buddies and Bad Times Theatre

May

Richard III – Stratford Festival

June  – Capturing Fire 2020 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

July

All’s Well That Ends Well – Stratford Festival

Hey! Or you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2020’s capfireslam.org – sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Mussorgsky

My introduction to Mussorgsky was Fantasia’s Night on Bald Mountain as a child. I was unaware of him as composer mind you. Later it was Emerson Lake & Palmer’s take on Pictures as at Exhibition – rock bombast. Then Tomita’s electronic interpretations of Pictures came along. I love the stereo work on it – the birds chirping from speaker to speaker.

I also had an lp with orchestral suites from Boris Godunov on one side & Borodin’s Polovetsian Dances on the other. I can still hear the bell in Boris suite.From MHS I had an lp of his solo piano music. Emotive romantic nostalgic. One piece was called “Nurse Locks Me In A Closet.” Who could resist that title 🙂 

What I have on the shelf are cds of Songs; Pictures; Boris Godunov: 3 cds; Khovanshchina 3 cds; Piano Music/Pictures; Boris Suite, Pictures, Bald Mountain. I also have Live From the Met cassettes of Khovanshchina that I’ve kept sit is quite different from the cd version. As you see I have various versions of Pictures at an Exhibition: orchestral, solo piano, two pianos, organ & somewhere a jazz take. The Gates of Kiev shows up often for grand military moments in movies, TV.

 

His music is impressionistic, romantic, patriotic & lyric. He’s not as emotional as Tchaikovsky, not as austere as Shostakovich, or as calculated as Stravinsky. His operas have Wagnerian epic sweep. Like many Slovak composers he makes great use of folk melodies. If you are unfamiliar start with an orchestral Pictures at an Exhibition.

 


Real Trouble

‘What would make you do a thing like that?’ 

I knew from the tone of my Dad’s voice I was in real trouble.

‘Sometimes I don’t know what gets into your head. I really don’t. Your mom and I do our best to make a good home for you. We lead a good life. Give you a good example and then you go and do something like this.’

I knew there wasn’t much I could say. At least not until I knew just what the thing I had done that he was talking about.

‘Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? No, wait before you attempt to apologize or explain let, me explain one thing. Your mother is up in our room crying her eyes out. You understand. This is going too far. Much too far.’

My mom cried at the drop of a cake, so I wasn’t too distressed to hear that whatever it was I had done had started her off on another jag. It wasn’t my fault that she needed professional help. Help my Dad figured wasn’t really right, morally right, that is. What would the neighbours think if my mom went to a shrink. They’d think we were a family like all the others. 

‘Now, I’m listening.’

My Dad sat on the arm of the sofa. His perch from which he was ready to pounce.

‘Dad I’m … What exactly did I do?’

‘Oh! Now it’s the innocent act. What did I do? God, why was I cursed with such sons.’

‘Dad you are being melodramatic.’ I wanted to add ‘again’ but bit my tongue. No need to antagonize him any further. 

‘You mean you really don’t know what you’ve done.’

‘No.’

‘Then I really don’t know what to tell you.’

‘You could start by telling me what it is that set you off like this. It’s been a pretty ordinary week, so far. Haven’t missed any classes. Did okay on that last quiz. Haven’t stayed out late. Haven’t played my stereo too loud. Haven’t hogged the Internet for hours on end. I even took out the trash last night. Didn’t I?’

‘You better have. How old are you?’

Oh I knew what it was. My social life. My lack of ‘action.’

‘Old enough, Dad. Why does it always come down to this? Always. I will date when I’m ready to.’

‘That’s not it. I know what you did. You mother knows. We just don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with your age. Peer pressure. Someone that would entice you into that sort of behaviour.’

‘Dad what are you talking about? Does it start with a ‘b’?’

‘Don’t make fun, son. Please, that won’t make it any easier on us. Mocking us all the time. I know you kids enjoy that sort of thing but we parents just see it as …’

He was speechless. His eyes glazed as he gaped over my shoulder. I turned around.

‘Mom! How long have you been there?’

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

every Tuesday 2019

July

Stratford Festival – Nathan The Wise

August 2-13: getting back to my roots in Cape Breton
Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

September

Shaw Festival – Sex (Mae West)

Stratford Festival – Little Shop Of Horrors

June  – Capturing Fire 2020 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Or you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2020’s capfireslam.org – sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

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Borodin & Other Killer B’s

15.Fabric01When I first picked up a collection of Boccherini’s Guitar Quintets from MHS I was expecting five classical guitarists tackling Spanish dances a la Rodriguez. Instead is was a single guitarist with violins etc. Quaint, relaxing, more renaissance than romantic this a set of chamber pieces. Sedate & not very challenging. That first version buried the guitar. Not that it stands out in this 2CD Philips set either but better sound quality helps. Charming.15.Fabric02Another lp to cd transfer of MHS releases falls under B: for Bochsa: Harp Concerto; Hummel: Trumpet Concerto; Boieldieu: music for harp & orchestra. These are from a couple of lps. All late 1700 early 1800 work for harp or trumpet. I love the harp concertos & these are delightful, not overly frothy or romantic. The harp, at one time, was a require possession for better families & there is a lot of chamber music written for it. The trumpet concerto is easy, relaxing & still performed, almost a war horse.15.Fabric03Next on the shelf is a stand_alone of  Borodin’s string music. I love the sonorities of string quartets – the interplay as the musicians seem to challenge each other to stand firm & clear in the thick, enveloping sound. I also love the melodrama of stirring Russian melody. Emotional, passionate & compelling. Recently added his complete piano music – moody & stunning impressionist work. Plus a best of: including sections of Prince Igor & Symphony 2 – glorious.

15.Fabric04

sample

Sparkle

The El’r Ft’hr D’br took an abrupt turn on the path through the falfa. There were two unharvested field with a tower in the middle. They headed to that tower. The El’r Ft’hr kept glancing back. G’th knew this was to make sure they weren’t being followed.

The door to the tower opened at D’br’s touch. The sun danced across the silica granite surface sending a sparkle arch of prisms into the air. The darkness inside was cool.

‘Be silent.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘You will be safe here.’

As D’br spoke the room became brighter. The light radiated from the ceiling, from along the walls at intervals. G’th could discern no torches just a soft glow that illuminated the passage way before them

He started to walk.

‘No, not that way.’ D’br directed him toward a stairway that lead up. ‘We must go up to the next floor. The Venerable El’r awaits you. He will be most interested in what you have to say. It has been many years since we have had a visitor from the outside world. Many years.’

The  El’r Ft’hr took G’th to a chamber at the end of a hall. In the centre of the room was a large desk. He touched the surface. It was wood. Real wood. The wall were lined with thick bundles of thin  hand sized sheets that had been been made of falfa.

He pulled out one The sheets of falfa were attached along one edge. Many hundred of them. They flipped in in hands. The sheets were covered with squiggles, outlines of faces.

‘These are books my friend. Books.’

G’th dropped the book he held.

‘Do not be alarmed. We have many things here which are older than our lives but of which we still know so little. You my friend may be one of them.’

The Venerable El’r motioned for G’th to sit.

‘I am the Venerable El’r B’la. We will talk now of your life while you still have it.’

soon

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

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

blackdots

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Mi alcance de todo el mundo

WPFeb

My reach around the world – more precisely my WordPress reach around the world. One of the great features of WP is this Top Views by Country, where I can tell what countries have looked at my posts going right back to when I first started it. That the USA & Canada top the most frequent list comes as no surprise. But that Brazil has claimed the 3rd spot for the last year has been unexpected.

wires

the wired corner

What the stats don’t tell me is who has looked, only where they are from, or perhaps where their server is from? That isn’t totally clear to me nor do I really care. I do wish I knew how some of these readers found the blog in the first place.

But to have so many readers from Spanish/Portuguese speaking areas pleases me: Brazil, Portugal, Spain, Costa Rica. Mexico, Columbia, Chile, Guatemala – hola. Drop me a line – google translate will tell me what you say 🙂

blackfile

the cold case files

What always surprises, almost shocks me, is getting hits from China (with how controlled the Internet is there). Russia is 5th on the list for February – with queer life so suppressed, repressed there I am amazed anyone would take the risk to look at my blog. Places where you can be jailed for writing poetry, let alone having same sex sex. Those brave Africans in Zimbabwe, South Africa – wow!

sky

the unwired sky

To get the map graphic I do a screen picture, trim it down some, cut & paste the info to take up less space. Also edit out the number of hits – where is more important that how many, right. But the darker the colour the more hits from that place. I’d love to see more places the color of Brazil & love to see Brazil as red as Canada.

Maybe when I win the lottery I can line up lunch dates with these total strangers & find out what keeps bringing them back to my postings.

samples

The Scope of Things

Dave got a telescope

for his thirteenth birthday

it needed a tripod to hold it up

if the screws weren’t tight enough

the heavy head would drift down

he showed me how to focus on stars

the faces of the moon

people’s roofs living rooms

to see what they were watching on TV

prying spying was sneaky fun

 

when we looked at the Milky Way

I would hum the Star Trek theme

we made notes of constellations nebulas

when we came to Earth

we had no guides for these creatures

observed from our ufo

as it hovered unseen

peering into their windows

as they shuffled from living room to kitchen

sat on the floor to eat chocolate ice cream

directly from the carton

scratched their private parts

which was about as exciting

as those dull humanoids ever got

never found an open bedroom curtain

or some flash of undressed flesh

 

for my thirteenth birthday

I got a microscope

to prepare me for science in school

Dave and I took turns looking at trapped squiggles

water had uncountable live darters

snot was creepy

our shit swarmed with so many  things

I had to wash and wash afterward

I had to do my sperm

in secret

again

I had to wash and wash afterward

 

we tried the microscope

through the telescope

puzzled by things so far

we couldn’t touch them

so small we couldn’t feel them

wondering where did we fit in

soon1

March 7 – Saturday – attending – 2015 Toronto SpecFic Colloquium – Round Venue, 152A Augusta Ave., Toronto

specfic

http://chiseries.ticketleap.com

March 26 – Thursday 8 pm – Judging – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam – Supermarket – 268 Augusta Ave., Toronto

hot

April 26, 2015 – Sunday – 2-5 – Featuring – The Secret Handshake Gallery – 170 Baldwin Ave., 2nd floor, Toronto.

born

May 7 – Thursday – 8 pm – Judging – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Season 1 finals – Buddies in Bad Times Theatre – 12 Alexander St., Toronto –

hdamnfinal

https://www.facebook.com/events/726986450755918/permalink/726987687422461/

June 5-7 – attending – Capturing Fire – Washington DC

fire

http://www.thedccenter.org/capturingfire/

(2015 registration posted but details not posted yet. I’ve registered already 🙂 )

June 21-26 – attending – Rosemary Aubert’s Workshop: The Novelist’s Selfie – Loyalist – Belleville

loylab

Loyalist Workshop is the real deal

page 23 for details next page down for registration info

https://www.loyalistbanner.com/ceweb/doc/LoyalistSummerArts2015.pdf

June 27, Saturday – 7:00-  Feature: Hot Summer Nights at Hirut, Hirut Restaurant, 2050 Danforth Ave., Toronto

summer15

September 3-6 – attending – Fan Expo

Expo15

http://fanexpocanada.com

October 18, Sunday – feature: Cabaret Noir: Inner Child Sacrifice

noiroc15

 

foggy

foggy wires

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

thanks