computers computers computers....waves waves waves...
This evening it is likely that I will meet with a Canadien relative who I haven't seen since I was a kid. She sent an email to a brother who sent my email to her. She's on a tour of Italy. This will be the 4rth time cousins have visited me in Italy.
Cute. Beanhead has an account with facebook and received a message from her grandmother's husband's grandson, her, uh, step cousin? Only when she received the message she didn't know who he was, nor how he knew of her, having never met him. He explained the relationship and now she is finding her other step cousins through the net.
I've written lyrics to 3 songs now..BUT I'm AWFULLY shy about posting them here-being hyper self critical and all/ that and with out the instrumental accompaniment they just seem, well, AWFULLY stupid (and short too, but one must imagine some instrumentals, various breaks and pauses). What the hay....
Elevator
(brief intro)
Not all the way to the top does it stop at the floor of the
door of my love, well,
Mom said it first, said that love is even worse slippin
down all the way to the ground floor.
Doors open wide, doors closing shut…
Kissing you while stuck in here is cause of love not cause for fear
everyday we’re riding in the-
Elevator, going up
it’s elevator, going down
elevator, going in
elevator time….
Not all the way to the top does it stop at the floor of the
door of my love, well,
Kissing you while stuck in here is cause of love not cause for fear
everyday we’re riding in the-
Elevator, going up
it’s elevator, going down
elevator, going in
elevator time….
Pressing the buttons for where we want to go….
(brief fine)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gated Community
Sorry excuse for some joke in our lives,
gated community run by some guy,
gated community,
gated communities, run for some time….
Whatever happened to Mary’s sweet lamb?
Was it attacked by a beasty old man?
Are they playing in fields in the sky,
in a gated community run by some guy?
Heaven ain’t heavy, it’s just secondhand,
second to living and second to man,
second to friendships etched in the sand,
second to Mary and her little lamb…
(fairly long instrumental bridge)
Heaven ain’t heavy, it’s just secondhand,
second to living and second to man,
second to friendships etched in the sand,
second to Mary and her little lamb…
Sorry excuse for some joke in our lives,
gated community run by some guy,
gated community,
gated communities, run for some time….
----------------------------------------------------
Unfortunately? At the moment I can't find where I wrote the lyrics for Jackpot Jinx, but Pippo has a copy, so later...
In any case, for me, the end product isn't the fun part; it's the brain storming draining babble that I write pages of to arrive at words or ideas I like enough. One of my favorite things is to take the musical verses to "a few of my favorite things" and rewrite them VERY VERY cynically.
Pippo also recopied an entire page of ball descriptions and circumstances without ever writing the word 'ball'. HAH! I just this moment remembered yet another Ball reference; Balls as in dance balls. What's sad is that Pippo has never seen a cartoon where lyrics roll by with a ball bouncing above them from word to word and so he doesn't know what I'm describing there, oh well.
There are two more songs that don't have lyrics yet.
One will be a structured Italian ballad; rhyming verses ACBC 1st person action description, dialogue, asking, answering, repeating a line with a word or a few altered, 3 episodes, events, versions...3 of SOMETHING. Writing lyrics in Italian is WAY more difficult because Italian words can't have their accents changed and because they tend to have less variety of syllabic structure and word end sound (almost always a vowel).
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
playing god, playing favorites
back to Norwich- his equation says nothing about people BELIEVING they know, and/or people who wish to CONTROL, people who are tremendously afraid, paranoid and/or suspicious, of persecution, or people who prefer TO NOT LEARN.
The last catagory, surprises me the most sometimes. If folks have learned to survive using mental/emotional crutches, placebo addicts, then discovering alternative approaches may seem destabilizing.
A quite serious born again Christian I know, once told me that Jesus wasn't Jewish. Jesus's having been Jewish was propoganda created by Jews, Gays and Blacks, they said. I'm not Jewish, gay or black, but in this person's mind, apparently I'd fallen susceptible to mind manipulation by them, because I hadn't become born again! I said, " Ask anyone! Ask any priest, rabbi, imam etc. I'm not making it up!" This person was dead set against learning a fact that might destabilize what they felt they needed to believe, for whatever reason; in this case, for the wellbeing of their survival. I shut up...I hardly need to convince people. I'm not a professional assigned to help rehabilitate people against their will. Quite possibly, that born again's survival was influenced by being born again- THAT way... Other born agains I've met, don't have probs with Jesus's Hebrew origins. God knows, I didn't send her a Martin Buber book for Christmas.
My 40 year dream research, of all things, helps me. What I discovered quite early on was that, so far, no one knows what dreams ARE exactly. I brought this up to Russell Targ, during a bus ride through Rome. He responded that there are many types of dreaming, and I agree with him. Ahhhhh....sacred flexibility...
I prefer sacred flexibility to sacred wobbling. People presenting things they choose to believe as knowledge. People handing their crutches to others. People who say one thing publicly and the contrary, privately.
My ole friend Roz Rezebek Wright once had a business card that said " Roz is my name, hypocrisy is my game."
That may have been when my intro to learning that some folks can consider hypocrisy a kinda cool approach. Somehow the thought dawned on me that the problem with pointing the finger at hypocrisy, is that hypocrisy, true to itself, will inevitably point back.
People wake from nightmares, and realize they were dreaming, when they're ready.
The last catagory, surprises me the most sometimes. If folks have learned to survive using mental/emotional crutches, placebo addicts, then discovering alternative approaches may seem destabilizing.
A quite serious born again Christian I know, once told me that Jesus wasn't Jewish. Jesus's having been Jewish was propoganda created by Jews, Gays and Blacks, they said. I'm not Jewish, gay or black, but in this person's mind, apparently I'd fallen susceptible to mind manipulation by them, because I hadn't become born again! I said, " Ask anyone! Ask any priest, rabbi, imam etc. I'm not making it up!" This person was dead set against learning a fact that might destabilize what they felt they needed to believe, for whatever reason; in this case, for the wellbeing of their survival. I shut up...I hardly need to convince people. I'm not a professional assigned to help rehabilitate people against their will. Quite possibly, that born again's survival was influenced by being born again- THAT way... Other born agains I've met, don't have probs with Jesus's Hebrew origins. God knows, I didn't send her a Martin Buber book for Christmas.
My 40 year dream research, of all things, helps me. What I discovered quite early on was that, so far, no one knows what dreams ARE exactly. I brought this up to Russell Targ, during a bus ride through Rome. He responded that there are many types of dreaming, and I agree with him. Ahhhhh....sacred flexibility...
I prefer sacred flexibility to sacred wobbling. People presenting things they choose to believe as knowledge. People handing their crutches to others. People who say one thing publicly and the contrary, privately.
My ole friend Roz Rezebek Wright once had a business card that said " Roz is my name, hypocrisy is my game."
That may have been when my intro to learning that some folks can consider hypocrisy a kinda cool approach. Somehow the thought dawned on me that the problem with pointing the finger at hypocrisy, is that hypocrisy, true to itself, will inevitably point back.
People wake from nightmares, and realize they were dreaming, when they're ready.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
' Diving for pearls' ( great Elvis Costello title)
Phew......
Amazing what the mind does or can do.
A mystic, Julian of Norwich, perceived the Holy Trinity as composed of; I CAN ( the father ), I KNOW ( the son), and I DESIRE
( the holy ghost/spirit ).
Take any one or two of those elements, but not all three, and YOU WON'T.
Not difficult math; You can, and you know it, but you don't desire to=you won't, You know something, desire something but can't do something= you won't, and/or lastly you can do something, you desire to, but you don't know it= you won't.
I can shop for shoes, I know my shoe size and desire a new pair of walking shoes since my older pairs, probably no longer meet my needs, as I perceive them. That all happens, no matter how other people perceive their own feet.
Improbable that their shoes will fit me, which using one's brain, might be comprehended as well, unlikely that I'll be deviating and scheming to steal their shoes, unless unless unless anyone chooses to simply assume or be afraid that I'm sooooo desperate that I can't afford a pair of shoes. Their fear can be based on an almost infinite quantity of excuses..guilt, blindness, risk of persecution, etc etc etc... People can go ahead and choose to believe that I can't buy a pair of shoes, even if they are mistaken, and I can.
Sometimes people ARE mistaken, but that hardly influences at all, my bare feet or new shoes.
Amazing what the mind does or can do.
A mystic, Julian of Norwich, perceived the Holy Trinity as composed of; I CAN ( the father ), I KNOW ( the son), and I DESIRE
( the holy ghost/spirit ).
Take any one or two of those elements, but not all three, and YOU WON'T.
Not difficult math; You can, and you know it, but you don't desire to=you won't, You know something, desire something but can't do something= you won't, and/or lastly you can do something, you desire to, but you don't know it= you won't.
I can shop for shoes, I know my shoe size and desire a new pair of walking shoes since my older pairs, probably no longer meet my needs, as I perceive them. That all happens, no matter how other people perceive their own feet.
Improbable that their shoes will fit me, which using one's brain, might be comprehended as well, unlikely that I'll be deviating and scheming to steal their shoes, unless unless unless anyone chooses to simply assume or be afraid that I'm sooooo desperate that I can't afford a pair of shoes. Their fear can be based on an almost infinite quantity of excuses..guilt, blindness, risk of persecution, etc etc etc... People can go ahead and choose to believe that I can't buy a pair of shoes, even if they are mistaken, and I can.
Sometimes people ARE mistaken, but that hardly influences at all, my bare feet or new shoes.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Congratulations Harry!
Might of read, HE was found...and adopted.
Today's theme is composing....
It all began awhile ago, with the first song a gift I made for Ross's graduation called, Bunny Harvey. Actually BH wasn't the VERY 1st song, but that was so long ago-and so strange sounding it's hardly mentionable. Back before the days I'd ever studied chords, progressions, keys, arrangement, music theory etc...
A bit later, Pippo and I were goofing around in his music room which has the ole electric clavinola I used to play at home (before Wilhemina was adopted), with Pippo on guitar ( instead of drums).
Pips tells me a progression and I goof with it. Then I tell Pips that the progression is NOT a song...progressions can't be copywritten-only melodies...Surprisingly, or rather telepathically? He and I hear THE SAME tune in our heads- and it sounds like an upbeat seventies surfer song- we can wordlessly sing it, using our voices as kazoos or a fake brass section. After some further melodic elaboration and arrangement, we call it Jackpot Jinx.
Next a very Italian sounding sad song comes out, in a minor key, of course. Initially we just call it Italian sad song, but after elaboration we decide it is a ballad. We are reminded of our rogue rebellious sentiments toward a dead outlaw named Liboni,
called il Lupo or lupone, and we decide to name our second song Ballata di Libone. Meanwhile I begin researching elements of il Lupo's life and demise for eventual suitable lyrics.
A very pretty progression is offered by Pippo next.....I take his progression and discombobulate it entirely; reordering the chords and arrangements and creating a melody. We call it Scensore perverso ( trans. Perverse elevator).
The latest, and Pippo's fave to date, is a progression and melody I wrote mostly with sevenths. While performing it for Gillian one day, she offers that it sounds like Mary Had a little lamb- and on review, I discover that infact, it shares many of the same notes with MhaLL. I decide to precede and end it with MhaLL. It asks questions about whatever happened to Mary's little lamb, elaborates and recounts the lamb's little life in almost a funeral like or ode mode.
All of these tunes can be sung fairly easily- Pippo and I regularly hear them in our heads, and occasionally sing them outloud with dadadadas or dumdumdoos, the fun part is when we begin to hear new parts and additions in our heads.
Now I'm beginning to have a serious and unaffordable musical wish list. A weighted key fully octaved board that can be plugged into a fastloading computer that has the program for writing the notes down, manipulating the timing, recording and mixing tracks. A recording studio for visiting musicians, elaborators, jammers. Sweet clear Microphones....knowledge about things that plug in and how....yikes...have serious cravings too for the piano teacher of my dreams in my musical utopia...
My fantasies extend into realizing that semi animated movie called, 'The adventures of piano girl' where all the superheros are musical instruments bringing harmony to discord but battling amongst themselves for supremecy, sometimes wandering off playing sad solos. Almost miraculously, the superheros save enough people from tone deafness and inspire them enough to
help them clap in rythm.
Readers of this new blog are invited to chime in. Adopt an instrument-add to the dream, tinkle a triangle..or whatever...
Today's theme is composing....
It all began awhile ago, with the first song a gift I made for Ross's graduation called, Bunny Harvey. Actually BH wasn't the VERY 1st song, but that was so long ago-and so strange sounding it's hardly mentionable. Back before the days I'd ever studied chords, progressions, keys, arrangement, music theory etc...
A bit later, Pippo and I were goofing around in his music room which has the ole electric clavinola I used to play at home (before Wilhemina was adopted), with Pippo on guitar ( instead of drums).
Pips tells me a progression and I goof with it. Then I tell Pips that the progression is NOT a song...progressions can't be copywritten-only melodies...Surprisingly, or rather telepathically? He and I hear THE SAME tune in our heads- and it sounds like an upbeat seventies surfer song- we can wordlessly sing it, using our voices as kazoos or a fake brass section. After some further melodic elaboration and arrangement, we call it Jackpot Jinx.
Next a very Italian sounding sad song comes out, in a minor key, of course. Initially we just call it Italian sad song, but after elaboration we decide it is a ballad. We are reminded of our rogue rebellious sentiments toward a dead outlaw named Liboni,
called il Lupo or lupone, and we decide to name our second song Ballata di Libone. Meanwhile I begin researching elements of il Lupo's life and demise for eventual suitable lyrics.
A very pretty progression is offered by Pippo next.....I take his progression and discombobulate it entirely; reordering the chords and arrangements and creating a melody. We call it Scensore perverso ( trans. Perverse elevator).
The latest, and Pippo's fave to date, is a progression and melody I wrote mostly with sevenths. While performing it for Gillian one day, she offers that it sounds like Mary Had a little lamb- and on review, I discover that infact, it shares many of the same notes with MhaLL. I decide to precede and end it with MhaLL. It asks questions about whatever happened to Mary's little lamb, elaborates and recounts the lamb's little life in almost a funeral like or ode mode.
All of these tunes can be sung fairly easily- Pippo and I regularly hear them in our heads, and occasionally sing them outloud with dadadadas or dumdumdoos, the fun part is when we begin to hear new parts and additions in our heads.
Now I'm beginning to have a serious and unaffordable musical wish list. A weighted key fully octaved board that can be plugged into a fastloading computer that has the program for writing the notes down, manipulating the timing, recording and mixing tracks. A recording studio for visiting musicians, elaborators, jammers. Sweet clear Microphones....knowledge about things that plug in and how....yikes...have serious cravings too for the piano teacher of my dreams in my musical utopia...
My fantasies extend into realizing that semi animated movie called, 'The adventures of piano girl' where all the superheros are musical instruments bringing harmony to discord but battling amongst themselves for supremecy, sometimes wandering off playing sad solos. Almost miraculously, the superheros save enough people from tone deafness and inspire them enough to
help them clap in rythm.
Readers of this new blog are invited to chime in. Adopt an instrument-add to the dream, tinkle a triangle..or whatever...
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Dogged determination...
It happened.
She was found.
Ages ago I'd left a search with Reunion.com, of all places... surprisingly, on January 8th I received a message.
It was rather an angry message. Remotely curious.
I responded, she responded.
I wrote her an email.
She was found.
Ages ago I'd left a search with Reunion.com, of all places... surprisingly, on January 8th I received a message.
It was rather an angry message. Remotely curious.
I responded, she responded.
I wrote her an email.
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