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April 6th, 2003

maelstrom and hail storm

"Home is where the heart is--
Home is so remote;
Home is just emotions
sticking in my throat--
let's go to your place,
let's go to your place".
---Lene Lovich

finding homeCollapse )

monarchs rule

Today I woke early, breakfasted on Total Raisin Bran and non-fat milk, but then fell asleep at 9 a.m., waking only at 1 p.m. I am amazed that a social evening with friends knocks me out, but it does. My wife and I went to our neighborhood Persian place, where they made me a sandwich of steak cubes on a huge pita. The owner was dressed in a T-shirt without a shave. When I am dressed in a T-shirt but no shave, I look slovenly. He looked like a page out of GQ. The genetic lottery gives us different numbers, and my numbers rarely come up with even the "3 out of 5" five dollar pay.

We then drove over to the Spring Creek Trail, the forested creek bottom with sidewalks through it. The sidewalks were filled with branch material from the severe thunderstorm which started our day, but the sun was beaming down through blue skies. We wandered for eighty minutes there, attracting inch-worms onto our shirts, because they hovered in mid-air from inchworm-threads and caught onto us as we hiked. We saw four monarch butterflies, which fly fearlessly because they know they are not tasty for birds. I like that story about the slightly smaller viceroy butterfly. They look like monarchs, but they actually are quite tasty for birds. The birds ignore them because of mimickry. I cannot trace the symbol to a noble conclusion in my mind, but sometimes I wish I were a viceroy butterfly. We saw a green beetle-like bug that was just gorgeous. At one bridge, a man signaled for us to stop. Sure enough, there was a little three foot non-poisonous snake threading the spaces in the metal bridge wall. I think he was a king snake, but I'm not sure. He was cool to watch, slithering between the spaces, until he went away.

As we passed Green Park, a quarter mile from my home, large, attractive plastic kites flew. The wind here is steady, but not unpleasant. Today, everything is steady, and not unpleasant.

Let's all join hands and sing off-key

Last July, my friend scottm and I had the critical six hour recording session for a CD called "Gurdonark: Vibrating Electric Fields". I described the process in detail in thisJuly 2002 post, so I won't belabor this post with further details. I'll just mention that the project involved two electric football vibrating metal fields, many kazoos, a slide whistle, a nose flute, home-made percussion instruments made with beans and miniature Pringle's cans, an electric autoharp, an electric guitar, a plastic diet Coke bottle of ball bearings, a plastic rain stick, a triangle, and a potpourri of kids' rhythm instruments. Oh, and the project involved one very talented musician, Scott, and my nearly talentless but ever-game self.

I'd been delaying getting the CD duplicated, but when Scott finished the jewel case and brought me the finished copy, I thought I'd better sit at the word processor and get the letter out to the CD duplication place. I just wrote the letter, and it's going out in tomorrow's mail.

My wife, wiser than I am, says that my projects are better stories than they are artistic events. I heartily agree. But I thought I would in the spirit of a good story share my song titles. Although some of these titles came to us at the time we recorded, one or two of the least melodious songs had a definite "what the heck is that?" feel to them that required exchange of fevered e mails, written with hasty if amused abandon, to title. Here are our results:

1. Uklectic
2. Robot Breakfast
3. High Plains Lullaby (Under the Power Lines)
4. Rapture of the Deep
5. Electric Stadium Land
6. What-O-Harp
7. We Just Say No
8. Gladiator Song
9. Mind the Gap
10. Alien Marketplace
11. Scentient
12. Saturday Afternoon

I am eager to get the CDs back and nervousness exchange, ebay or what have you. I'm also sending off Scott's own solo work, which is actually very good trad roots rock. I may even have to draw up "stationery" for Gurdonark Records, so that I can ask the local alternative newspaper to review the work (or at least Scott's work, which is deserving of review).

Needless to say, any of my LJ friends who wish to suffer will be invited to leave an address several weeks hence when I have CDs in hand. In the meantime, please excuse me, but I want to listen to my CD.