I Dream a Highway

I haven't got many words lately. Sometimes music is the best way to talk about what's going on . . .

written and recorded by Gillian Welch

Farewell Chick Corea - RIP

Besides being a stellar pianist, jazz composer, keyboardist, bandleader, and occasional percussionist Chick Corea was a truly kind man. Back in the early 80's, one of the darkest, most isolated periods of my life, I wrote him a letter. I have no idea how or why I had his address. I don't even know how I got a stamp or envelope. I was living alone in a trailer in a holler in West Virginia without electricity or running water. I think a friend had played some gigs with him.

Anyway, I wrote him and some time later, a letter showed up in my battered mailbox. He encouraged me to hold on, to trust the path. It made a difference. In all, we exchanged a couple of letters. He invited me to stay in touch, but I didn't.


This is an atypical piece for him but it speaks to me.

He died a couple of days ago at the age of 79. Now, I have no idea what (if anything) happens to an individual after death but . . . thank you for your kindness and best wishes, Chick Corea, where/whatever you are now. 

 

Walking Blues (Robert Johnson). Keb' Mo' | Playing For Change |

Come on home

2020 was a hard year and I'm certainly not alone thinking that. What difference does a flip of the calendar mean? Ten miles into the woods, ten miles out so it's the direction you're going that matters. Better make sure you're going in the right direction. Even then, it's a long walk back.

All Along the Watchtower

Note to self....

Morning rant

America is infested with fascists, beginning with our corporate overlords and their political wing, the Republican party . . . their media wing, FOX News . . . their army of battle-ready fascist cops protected by standard issue Get Out Of Jail Free cards   . . . their power-hungry colleagues, the racist evangelical churches, the party's foot soldiers, you know, that mob of ignorant motherfuckers worshiping Confederate generals in the name of Christian Jesus, those fucking alt.right vigilantes cheered on by the NRA . . . and the Karens and Kens of every color . . . fascist all. I'm done with all of it, all of it, all of it.

Where is America, shelter for those "yearning to breathe free"? Where is America, the "land of the free, home of the brave"? Fascists aren't free or brave. They are maggots fat on hate who scoff at facts and science, who think because their skin is "white" they are superior, or because there's a dick and balls hanging between their legs they're superior, or because they make a show of worshiping the white-skin version of brown-skin Jesus of Nazareth it's ok to betray their own ethnicity for a ride on the gravy-train. They're maggots thinking money and connections will forever keep them immune to the chaos they have created.

I'm done with the billion and trillionaire elites who hide in the ivory towers of their corporations then shove their US Supreme Court approved Corporate Personhoods into the world to do their dirty work. Corporate Persons . . . legal entities . . . created to absorb the consequences of criminal corporate activity, thus insuring the human power players remain above and beyond the law. I'm am so fucking done with them all.

The ultra-rich have turned America into a tax haven for anyone with enough cash and credit to buy-in. They are the ones who pay to change the law to fit their business plans and are draining the planet of its resources, destroying the beauty, poisoning the air, poisoning the water, poisoning the oceans, rivers, springs, lakes, wells, clouds . . . poisoning and eliminating top soil. They are destroying the very climate upon which life as we know it depends.

I am so done with the Republican Party and its president, Trump Corp, and all their climate change backers who live above the law in their corporate structures, skyscraper hideouts, island retreats, insider enclaves, underground palaces, international tax havens and whatever other fantasy worlds they have created to escape the consequences of their arrogance and greed.

There is, however, a footnote to all this.

Where do we go from here? It's chilling how successful the alt.right has been at brainwashing the unaware with their lies and loathing. I pity their obedient, hapless supporters who embrace wage slavery for themselves and their poorly educated children. I feel sad for everyone in America and around the world waiting for their fascist overlords to give a shit about them. They never did and they never will. 

It's heartbreaking realizing that collectively we humans have triggered a mass extinction on the planet, that all species on earth are being sucked into the environmental collapse with us. It's surreal looking through the web of lies America is suffocating in because . . . no matter what . . . no matter who or where we are . . . no matter what we think, feel, or believe . . . we are all in this together.


###

Ok. Sometime I just have so yell into the void. Rant over. I've included an antidote to all this poison below . . .

Higher Ground | Playing For Change

Beyond the Pale

Ireland, starting out - five weeks - 3000 miles

We came upon this spectacular work by Caravaggio in Dublin. Of course my photo in no way conveys its perfection. I leave this here as a note in the sand. Should you find yourself in Dublin, see it.

The Taking of Christ by Caravaggio
National Gallery of Ireland

After five days in Dublin, known in medieval times as The Pale, we rented a car and began this crazy, month long drive beyond The Pale.

Tiny Ireland is barely the size of the US state of Indiana
photo source: bleemo.com

I fell immediately under the spell of the emerald isle.

One of Ireland's 10 gazillion
such enchanted passageways

Our first base was south, in Kilkenny. It's about an hour and a half from Dublin on the main road but it took us all day . . .

because we drove the single lane back roads . . .

and stopped a lot along the way.

Centre for Peace and Reconciliation,
Glencree, Co. Wicklow, Ireland

Swami & Juan Carlos
loved the dark wood.

Graveyard in Glendalough
dating back to the 10th century

Grove in Glendalough

Medieval chapel in Glendalough

We also listened to a lot of music along the way including "I Dream a Highway" by Gillian Welch which proved to be almost too much.





Later M. Lee mentioned that during the drive he'd never felt so depressed in his entire life.

A little night music for today

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik (A Little Night Music)
Dorothea Tanning, 1943, Tate Modern

1 Hour Sufi Music of Turkey | Hakan Mengüç

Freedom, sweet freedom!

These animals are tasting freedom for the first time pic.twitter.com/zd1yfQh9kz

— The Dodo (@dodo) May 21, 2017

Moby & The Void Pacific Choir

Don't Leave Me



"Along with the video, Moby has announced the inaugural Circle V Festival which will take place at LA’s Fonda Theatre on 10/23. He will be headlining the festival and it will be his only live show of 2016. The video is to help build awareness for mercy for animals and the 100% vegan festival will donate all proceeds to animal rights causes. Presale tickets are available at 10AM local times on 08/25 here."

Source: Stereogum on Yahoo

Street music from Istanbul

I love these guys. Everybody did. Great fun. We came upon them in Katakoy which is across the Bosphorus Strait on the Asian side of Istanbul. Enjoy.

Bathtub Bass, the rest of the story and paper floor update

Thea and G'pa's flute and bass jam

Remember that bass in my bathtub? It's finally gone. We sold it when we were in Portland this fall. With all that was going on with my granddaughter, I forgot to mention it  She's doing better now, btw. She's living at her mom's, has a new boyfriend and a job so we are keeping a good thought from here in the background. Growing up is hard and, I didn't realize it then but, oh man, the 20s suck!

Thea examining bass before sale

So, back to the bass. We sold it to a guy named Pete in Portland, Pete of Pete's Upright Bass Shop on S.E. Boise Street. Pete was the perfect guy to buy bass. We couldn't be happier. He's a musician in the full sense of the word. Music, and in particular the bass, is his love and way of life. So this is the end of long journey for the bass. M. Lee's dad bought it in Portland. We inherited it when he bought a smaller one and, after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to find a buyer, it lived in our bathtub for a number of years. Finally, and to our great relief, it's time in the desert has come to an end.

Testing testing testing

As for Project Paper Floor. It's going just fine, punctuated by occasional moments of, how do I say, great uncertainty. After all, he's not just slapping down tile or rolling out linoleum. Doing a paper floor is more like doing a life-size art installation. There is only so much anyone can read and trust me, M. Lee has read it all, before one has to take the inevitable leap off the cliff. Of course, he did a lot of tests first on plywood scraps to figure a few things out, proportions, which color paper to use, methods for applying the glue, whether or not to crumple the paper before dipping it in glue or just dip it. He pre-crumples.

The test case was our bathroom. It's the smallest room in the house but turned out to be the hardest due to all the angles. But it's done, including the 12 coats of polyurethane. It looks fantastic. Now he's working on the rest of the bathroom, bedroom and closet. So far so good. It's papered but not without some redoing to break up a couple of seams that developed due to laying paper on two separate days. That took some juggling but he fixed it. Today he'll polyurethane that, beginning with the closet where he'll experiment with using the roller. Applying 12 coats of urethane throughout the entire house with a paint bursh is just not something one does unless one has to. But hey. No matter what, the fucking carpet is gone! Okay. Gotta go. I'm mired in a solstice/xmas card project that I made waaaaaaaaay too complicated. I'm even making the envelopes. Madness! But they must go out today.

First room done and beautiful

Magpie Snow Day Breakfast

Maggie and her tiding enjoy a breakfast of toast and peanuts in the Bird Park after a night of snow. Little wonder "gulp" is one of the names for a group of magpies.


PS. I'd appreciate hearing from you if you happen to know the name of the composer of the piano piece. I would like to add the attribution. I didn't note it at the time and now I've forgotten. 

7 o'clock magpie

WARNING: This video is hard core Bird Park. So far, none of my friends like it ... no action ... so ordinary ...etc. etc. They're right but I like it anyway. Just a note: I didn't dub the music in later. I just happened to be listening to LOW while recording this unevent. They go together very well so I think of it as a happy synchronicity.

A young magpie happened by the Bird Park one evening and found the French fries I'd put out at the end of the day. She was delighted. Now she often shows up at dusk hoping for more. This particular evening she and her friend were not disappointed.

One more note: In case you're wondering ... that golden pile is not all french fries, just the tiny pile in front. The stuff in the background is straw I put out for nests. It is a bird park after all and it's spring.

Koo-Koo-Ka-Choo

My favorite new song:

I'm the Decider

bush liar the decider Koo-Koo-Ka-Choo