...post what I find as I find it along the way.
A map.
So much has already gone by.
For that, I will just have to list where I've already been.
And recreate the sequencing as best I can, if after the fact it seems important to do so.
Because one thing always leads to another.
I discover/learn/notice something and that discovery makes something else make sense.
Like doing a jigsaw puzzle. But completely in my mind.
At first I was reluctant to record the process.
Just flights of fancy, mine. No substance. No sense.
Just nonsense.
But the pieces that I was finding kept making sense.
Again and again it happened.
And each time I would think to start mapping it.
And each time I would think of what had gone before.
How I should have been writing it down all along.
And then not write it down.
A cartographer that works with invisible ink is more than less than unhelpful.
So, with blue/black ink in my pen, I'll begin.
Ici.
........................................
Hache marks on today's trees.
My breadcrumb trail into the thicket.
(I will return later to lay the connecting threads.)
But these breadcrumbs cannot be eaten, carried off, or blown away.
For I have written them down!
........................................
• Archetypes found.
• Archetypes NOT found (possibly more important).
• Oscar Wilde (again).
• The Picture of Dorian Gray.
• À rebours.
À rebours!
Mon Dieu! C'est encroyable! Vraiment? Oui.
And it stunned me.
And it keeps happening.
I send myself searching, today I started at wikipedia: 'archetypes'.
I follow anything that catches my attention. I shamble, I trip, I waste scads of time.
But sometimes, amazingly, a glass wall smacks me upside the head, and I fall onto treasure!
Something about the finding of what can't be found.
"À'rebours" (book).
Here another trail opens up: 'The Libertine'
• Against Nature (translated title of book).
• Huysmans (author of book).
• Mr. Huysmans (portrait painter, film, 'The Libertine')
• ??? Real name of painter? If not, then there are more connections to explore.
• Against nature, against reason, against constancy... Wilmot
• And/or author of play/screenplay, Stephen Jeffries
Reading list additions:
'The Picture of Dorian Gray' by Oscar Wilde
'À rebours' by ... Huysmans
'The Libertine' by Stephen Jeffries
New tag...
a bread bin for thoughtcrumbs I notice sur mon chemin,
traveling snaky roads into "Grace /Wastelands".
Userpic...
T.S. Eliot & Elvis Presley 12" album covers are the base.
"Grace /Wastelands" cd jacket & inner booklet sit on top.
This tag is for the astonishing catgut that ties them together,
"Grace /Wastelands".
A work of great beauty.
- Music:The Village by New Order from Power, Corruption & Lies
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
endoftheroad55 MIXTAPE: The Cold Bed: listen here
A Great Black Pit - Sweeney Todd soundtrack
Todd Violence (aka Tom Violence) - Sonic Youth - EVOL
Shadow of a Doubt - Sonic Youth - EVOL
Morning Song - Charlotte Gainsbourg
Love Don't Live Here Anymore - Rose Royce
Abattoir Blues - Nick Cave
The Cold Bed - World of Skin
Let It Come Down - Swans - The Burning World
with subliminal ST bits mixed in
( Lyrics, etc. )
PIRATES - AT WORLD'S END - 2nd ANNIVERSARY MIXTAPE
"Hoist the Colours", with an accidental manipulation starts it off.
??? Next is the surprise song - it's the song that I started digging through my records to find after my second viewing of AWE - it shows that Beckett, unfortunately, was not an anomaly in that time.
"Hoist the Colours", again, this time with intentional manipulation.
Reprise of the surprise song, this time a live version.
Then Jack issues 4 commands - one for each of our heroes - Jack & Elizabeth & Barbossa & Will
Beckett sinks and
the Seas return to their rightful Owners.
It remains playable for 14 days from today.
I hope you enjoy listening, my dear pirate friends.
http://www.fuzz.com/fan/mysticeyes/mixt
( Lyrics. )
Naturally, Sheldon has a skate punk record collection to die for.
Film: Once Upon a Time in Mexico
All song titles and artists are real. The A side / B side pairings are fiction.
Rating: R for language, same as the film
( Sands' Older Sister Flips through His 45's and is Horrified by What She Finds - R/Language )
Doggerel, pure doggerel and a pedigreed mongrel one at that...
Once Upon a Time in Mexico
(The tune, 'My Favorite Things', from "The Sound of Music")
Rating: R for language, same as the film.
( Sands Develops a Sudden Fondness for Bells - R/language )
Glancing down and around, to see what held me, I spotted a bit of paper and, a large splinter, splayed off, catching my hem.
"Oh. My old drabbles.", and leant over to unhook my skirt and pick up the scrap.
I shook it out and examined it in the lantern light.
"H-m-m. Not so bad."
Funny what the universe will fling back at you.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
( Two DMC drabbles are here: )
it's one & the same
Just under 22 minutes. The posting period is 14 days from today.
First posted: 14 February, 2008
( The playlist, album art & lyrics are here. )
Starts in the Red River Valley and journeys backwards & forwards in time.
Red River Valley
Mother of Earth - Gun Club
Cyclone of Rye Cove - The Carter Family
The People Will Survive - The Minutemen
Love Dissolve - Angst
Wicked Way - Yo
In my head I've always called this set "The People Will Survive" which is the opening line of The Minutemen's "Corona". The theme, I think, is endurance. And the music spans 1929 to 1985. Corona is a Mexican beer.
Primitive country. Primitive western.
Primitive punk country & western.
I like the idea of someone that knows The Carter Family's music and gets turned onto The Gun Club. Or, conversely, a Minutemen fan discovering The Carter Family from this.
The one that always gives a faraway look to my eyes is "Mother of Earth" by Jeffrey Lee Pierce's group "The Gun Club" from their album Miami. My junkie lyric love, deceased.
( Titles, lyrics, etc. )
Becky. Becky was yelling. Something’s wrong! Not hearing the delight in her voice, he tore down the stairs to the yard and found her, by the evergreen trees.
Mittened hand gesturing to join her, they drop together in the snow.
"Look, Gilbert, the first crocuses."
Mittens off, bare fingers cupping the little flowers. Her skin, like the petals, milky white, violet veined. Shocking tangerine stamens, secreted within.
There, on their knees, supplicants to the pines, she gave absolution.
Their new life revealed, Gilbert vows the sins of the father will not pass to another generation.
"I had wild Jack for a lover;"
Somebody?
Anybody?
http://www.levity.com/digaland/celestia
"William Blake and the Pools of Light"
William Blake #1
Saturday, December 8th, 2007
I saw him as soon as we turned down our street.
We were returning, about 10 o'clock, from my company's holiday dinner. I said to pull over and park right away, because I was afraid that the approach of a car in the driveway would frighten him. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of our house, looking around and then down, to consult a paper he had with him. The glow of the three newly risen moons seemed to hold him.
Earlier, I had asked my husband and son to hang our light globes in the front and they had managed to do that. Not using a ladder, my son, born acrobat that he is, had scrambled up the tree, and out, onto the limbs, to place the balls, one large and two small, about 14 and 10 inches in diameters. Now, in the dark, these "Dandelion Lights" were just as the box had promised, "brilliant floating puffs", dangling from our bare limbed ash tree. Too brilliant. We joke that we have a solar system in the front yard. But yet, they enable us to see, at midnight, the early narcissus, budding below. Embarrassingly, we can in fact, turn off all of the interior room lights in our front room and still have sufficient illumination to read, when sitting near the window.
So, I was not surprised by the rather stunned look on William Blake's face as we approached.
"Someone you know?" my husband leaned towards me and asked.
"New tenant for the garage apartment."
"Oh. I'll leave you to that." Skeptical of the concept, he headed up the walk, unlocked the front door and went in. A trailing sliver of light was all that remained in the doorway. I approached William Blake. Sadly, his traveling suit was more brilliant than the lights I have just described to you. He also held a "WANTED MAN" poster in his hand. He seemed lost.
His doe-like eyes, behind glass, met mine, also behind glass. I felt a pang shoot to my heart as conflicting senses of innocence and experience shone from his eyes, radiating by a light of their own, to mine.
"You must be William Blake."
"I am. Do you know my poetry?"
From my research, I knew this was a test. Not wishing to be blown away in my own front yard, I quickly replied. "Yes I do. But I only know some of it, and not as much as I would like. I would learn more, should you choose to share it with me."
Thankfully, that seemed to placate him. He relaxed.
Looking down, at the poster, I mentioned quietly, "It seems your reputation precedes you."
Looking down also, he tensed, his fingers tightening and the poster began to quiver.
Balling and flinging in one motion, he threw it away.
"That is not me. Not me. It must be some other, William Blake. The world appears to be full of them."
To distract him, I suggested we go in.
"Tomorrow, in the daylight, I'll show you the private entrance to your room. You'll have your own key. You can come and go as you please. But tonight, come on, we'll go through the house and you can meet everyone."
"Everyone?"
"My family. The other people that live here, too. Follow me."
And he did. Up the few steps, to the door, still ajar. And into the front room. The living room. The definitely lived in room. The warmth of the house met us, and suddenly aware of that, I hoped it wasn't too much for him, having been out in the cold for so very long.
Surveying my same old sights, I tried to imagine what he was seeing for the first time. My son, upside down and backwards with one leg flopped over the sofa arm, playing his handheld electronic game, made no change in position with our entrance. I watched William Blake as he looked around, taking in the odd assortment of old things, the too many books, the threadbare Wilton "Anglo-Persian", the toy animals, missing eyes and stuffings, but loved. And watch him take in the new things, boxes glowing with knobs and numbers and lights, square glass-like cases with pretty pictures everywhere, no clue to the music within. And the pools of light. Like in the front. He was drawn to them. Gentle moth.
"These pools of light, without flame? What magic is this?"
"Electricity. It travels in wires. If you look close, everything has them. It gives us light and heat now. Easily. Too easily." Thankfully again, that seemed to be enough of an explanation for him.
Sniffing the interior air, and looking round at the lights, he said, "This is better, kerosene always did give me a headache."
At another pool of light, something caught his eye. A paper flower.
(word count = 812)
- Music:Neil Young, of course
http://www.fuzz.com/userManage/mysticey
On October 22, 2007, a chance meeting between myself and the folded SF Chronicle on the counter as I waited for my coffee told me of a new internet company where you can upload your
streams of music
and people can LISTEN to them.
LISTEN, not download, save, buy, imagine from a playlist or any of that messy other stuff.
The idea is that of the mixtape. Or for me, the segue. I got to do my "mixtapes" on the air. So I was spoiled because to me how the songs actually fit and blend together is the art. The whole is more than just the sum of its parts.
The mysterious conjugal moment between two songs creates a third element.
A mystery, a divine revelation. A dynamic thing.
So just picking out songs and sequencing them, well I can't just do that.
They have to overlap. Or not. By my hand.
So I actually never made "mixtapes".
aslowhite, I don't think you've ever heard anything I've ever done. I'm sorry.
Think long sets from WHFS that told a story and made you feel something.
Think WGTB and anything goes.
I got to be mysticeyes at KALX from July 1983, til sometime in 1991. The end is blurred.
Now I have new ideas that I've been wanting to try out and I started yesterday.
I got my name, mysticeyes. Do you know how hard it is to get that combination? Good thing they're a start up.
So, there's nothing there yet.
Except my name.
And a picture.
And some words.
So you can look at the blank slate right now and I'll send word when you can listen.
You don't have to register to listen.
The stream lasts 14 days from when I upload it.
You won't be inflicted with spamdreck for visiting either.
Very happy.
- Music:EVERYTHING...NOW!
COMMENTS: My thoughts about Jack and Beckett and the, as yet unknown, mark that Jack left on Beckett.
"MARKSMANSHIP: A Conversation, between Lord Cutler Beckett and the Prisoner, Jack Sparrow." (a 100 word drabble speculating about the nature of the mark and how it came to be)
CONTENT: Adult in nature (but, sadly, nothing graphic)
( Oh, bugger! )
- Music:Dirty Three, "Whatever You Love You Are"
Disclaimer: This writing was inspired by the 2001 film "Once Upon a Time in Mexico". The character, Sands, created by Robert Rodriguez, who wrote & directed, and brought to life by Johnny Depp. See the film, purchase the dvd and soundtrack cd.
Dedicated to all those who refuse to accept that their big dance number with Sands is over.
Ultimately I'd like to make this "3D", with music and maybe even images.
Not necessarily a video. Something else.
A sound collage as seen through the fevered mind's eye of Sheldon Jeffrey Sands.
Summary: An atmospheric, uncounted word drabble type exercise; setting the stage for hopefully more things to come.
( PIXIE DUST )
- Music:The Breaking Hands by Gun Club from "Mother Juno" produced by Robin Guthrie
