Rough draft of some ideas on enriching life through art, mindfulness, and cultivation. As well as some stray thoughts on synchronicity and the creative process.
Yes, I know the title is ponderous. Yes, I know I’m holding a guitar without playing and yes it does look pretentious. But I was practicing and then the idea came.
Open E tuning to make it sound like I can actually play guitar sorta.
Just another Jam
Got a 40 dollar CAD u49 since my abused Focusrite finally called it quits. Works pretty good.
Plumbing woes have me making yet another disjointed vlog of vlogness. Herein you’ll find minutia from my life, defending the merits of Korean gals, Germany’s kinky stance on Romanian labor, discovering a Southern Yup Magazine, a random ass passage from Russell, and amateur god damn music.
Yeeha.
Vee’s Excellent Explanation of Corporate Bullshit and East European Subservience –
Ebegging Because Scotch is Expensive
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Not Just Zazz…but Pizzazz
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Sifting round for musical ideas.
Black sand shivers
Dog star glimmers
Sapphire silence
Subtle violence
The Saracens in flight
Lamps are burning
Sacred yearning
For the ending of the light
Bones are dancing turning engines
(Crystalline machinery)
Of the rite
The Saracens in flight
False so called is all this wisdom
True it never was a thing
Here beneath the ruined kingdom
Lay the bones of scarlet king
The Saracens in flight
For the aeon is upon us
At the crossroads
Of Lemuria and Kyuss
Rise o sleeprs from abodes
Join the chorus
Of the hawk-wind
Screeching cross this seabed dry
The Saracens in flight
Restored flesh
Infused with spirit
Fresh like dew
Without limit
Sands they drew
From the beginning
Set the leaning
Hour glass aright
The Saracens in flight
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Putzin around
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Stuff
1) Perfumed Sweaters
2) The Merits of Spiders
3) Are scientists better than laymen at assessing topics outside their areas of expertise
4) Semi Musical Prattle
5) The stigma of early 20th century eugenics keeps us from analysing genetic vulnerabilities to disease
6) 2015 was half a decade ago
Articles Discussed
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My Two Cents: you can’t own the mixolydian scale. you can’t own a persons understanding of music. you can’t own a person’s performance of music. by this logic cover bands, and musicians playing covers in bars, are criminals. i.e. every musician is a criminal who owes somebody money going all the way back to the caveman who smacked a coupla rocks together.
Mr. Beato’s Rant
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I was actually really set to record some music that I thought would be decent. But then I got muscle spasms/cramps in my arms because I am a girly man and will never be governer of California. So instead I did a shitty guitar jam with my crampy arms and then had a go at Jack Bickham’s 38 Common Fiction Writing Mistakes.
Interestingly enough as I was clicking around my tabs this article showed up:
I haven’t read it yet but I’m fairly certain from the volumes in my ex-girlfriends house that Walt Whitman is the cunt who wrote Blades of Grass and punched his editors. I was going to invoke him as the sort of person who wouldn’t give a damn about 38 most common anythings. But temper it by saying O come on, you can’t just shit out whatever you want…
And then I shat out whatever I wanted.
So hail Bacchus and Hail Whitman.
Cheers!
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The Fractal Journal 