Friday, September 20, 2013

Equinox Project

When I was a kid, I sang often, just because. My mother would only let me listen to tv and Christian music, so often I sang commercial jingles. One day, a girl who was listening to me, during school, said in a snide way, "Why do you sing so much?" "Because," I said. "It's annoying," she said. I was otherwise a quiet, pious kid, so I stopped singing in front of other people.

I always sang, alone. It was like stealing, like I was doing something I was not suppose to do. But I sang anyway, though I held my voice back, like if I let it out too much I might get in trouble. LOL. Then I met a woman who was a singer, and I felt bad that I had not the experince or the courage to sing with her, to make music with her.

So then, alone one day, I said, I will sing as loud as I want to sing. I will see what my voice is capable of.  

I offer this to you now, not because I think I am some great singer, but because, in the words of Shree Dove, "When the core starts to ring, and I start sing, you all know that I ain't no joke."

Blittzen Trapper, Furr

Jeff Buckley, Mojo Pin

Blind Melon, No Rain

Nawal, Musica

Jeff Buckley, Hallelujah (In 3 parts, as my camera only records 3 minutes at a time:)

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Frontenac Wine

When I was a kid, I would go cold, break into a sweat, and feel lock-jawed, at the mere hint that I might have to speak in front of other people. Being 40 has it's advantages. Having been on tv a few times too, the last few years, having been part of various podcasts, having managed businesses, danced in the street and before audiences, most if not all my fear of public speaking has dissipated.

So I have this camera. This early generation digital that was given to me for some work I did, for a maiden, mother and crone. I've been working with the camera, not very seriously, not overly diligent about scripts, or editing, or making certain I have enough memory on the card to do what I intend to do, if I am intending anything. I film in the least data dense way, so as you will not burn up too much of your data-allowance watching me experiment.

This was a challenge from the blogger @ Epiphany Now, Luciddreams, Aaron McCarty; and Roamer, Nick Raumm; both of whom I consider integral to the SUN (Sustaining Universal Needs) project I have been working on, with the Doomstead Diner. Nick challenged Luciddreams and I to make a video-log or equivalent, to present on the SUN Website, to prove that we are serious about building a sustainable community. So I'll start with something I know about, living in the Midwest.

The Frontenac grape is a hybrid, between a Minnesota wild variety, and a French hybrid, introduced by the University of Minnesota plant breeding program, in 1996.

See that one bead of sweat, dripping .

I pulled out most of the stems before I put the juice and skins in the bucket.

As this is the somewhat tedious part, it helps to sing. This is a fragment of a song by Blittzen Trapper, Furr (the camera shut off, the memory card full, an auspicious #), to go with the half wild theme. I finally let go of the straining when the bulk of the pulp had been removed, and poured the remaining juice through the kitchen strainer.

I'm not sure why I shut the camera off after the first part, in this next song. But if I hadn't, the recording would have stopped sooner than it did in the third music video. Whatever of my huffing and puffing, I think I sync nicely with Jeff there at the end. Though if I had shut off the first part sooner, I would have the true crescendo to show you. LOL :) 

Oh yeah. I remember, I felt it necessary to rinse out the greens-keeping bag, as it had become so clogged with fine grape particulate.

Sen'iments. LOL Blessings.

Monday, September 2, 2013

Hope: Birth of the Waterbearers

What rough beast
muddling unto Babylon
reeking of the rotting flesh of innocents
milk tainted and honey lost;
wasteland civilization
triumphant in the levelling of all that is.

The spectre of two cities burned
rising where the sun sets
to rain down the bitter tears
of the promise of illumination lost;
wickedness unatoned, undecommissioned
many a such/same poison pill
buried deep in the grid/soul
of a proud and imperial nation.

What darkness sits
where a white founder stood
eviscerating what declaration of rights
written by sages
who condemned their paternity to slavery?
Such darkness presiding over
what holocaust unprecedented,
for fear of a loss of credibility
before the gods of war, famine  
pestilence and death?

Riding the hydran headed Leviathan
birthed out of the exploitation
of ancient sunlight stored
in the bosom of the Mother
wreaking with the rules writ
by Father
implicit in the pure harmony of nature
Leviathan putrescence breaking
the bonds of a core connecting
down to the very seed of a spiral code;
mechanistic mindlessness
that cannot be brought down
by cutting off any one head.
Leviathan brought down nonetheless
as written in cosmic alignment
in the changing of an Aeon:

Nearly all will be lost
Monotheistic and Materialist.

While a consciousness like water
tenacious like life, lives on
and remembers.