Category: time

Watch “David Bowie Bring Me The Disco King feat Maynard James Keenan” on YouTube

https://youtu.be/uFNHbMfLpy8

Ah hell, never a dull moment.

This piques my interest for personal reasons.

23rd album. Reality. Read Bowie’s quote about the title, yeah?

In a previous post, I link to a delightful interview with Nile Rodgers who discusses Bowie asking to see the disco king.

Thê song sounds very new to my ears.

Time capsule it. Play it on a rainy night for your kids when they are teenagers.

Hmmm.

Maybe their kids when they are teenagers.

Time makes white look white, until compared to brighter white.

Provenance?

Alice; All ice ;Allies. All`ies

The reason you turned around;

The reason í pan-kicked;

at the sound of a child

A Knecht a’kneeled Before Flame

He saw how Joseph was annealed by the fire…[and] felt the ordeal more than Joseph. P241

Sounded overwrought to me. Then I bothered (sic. concerned) myself with actually looking up

/annealed/

I was being educated on several levels. I first read the sentence such that I thought I knew more than I did. I imagined /annealed/ to be some form of a bow or a kneeling position, a kiss the ring, smell the glove. A posture taken when the situation demands you take yourself seriously. If you can imagine such a thing! Or that you undertake to do something trivial quite meticulously. For the sake of the process itself. By your choice. You take part with and in. Or, when ritual, tradition, culture, bestows us a transcendental catharsis by allowing us to take very specific actions with others undertaking them alongside, as well. A hymn sung by a choir. Suddenly, lighting a candle is holy. Yet, lighters and matches abound. Fire is easy to come by but it was not always so.

Blind spot.

Shocking how much meaning we can contain. There are so many pearls that some readers start arguing over the appraising of an irregular pearl. It is all about finding, examining, analyzing, and drawing conclusions about the relative value. Waiting to find that big money shot pearl. A yup.

“awe, more valuable. made of pearl but unique, collectors edition. Gesture, essence. and articulation.”

“Worthless. It’s shape isn’t paradigmatic of the standard pearl. Misinformed. Monstrous, devalues the other pearls to even be in the same bowl with them.”

Who let the pigs out? Who? Hoo hoo?

Too much monkey business for me. We as a species have moved on. Or did I miss the train and am now out of joint?

The Glass Bead Game: Magister Ludi. 1990. First Owl Books Edition. $18.00 USD/$24.95 Canada. That seems really inexpensive as I think back on it now. At five hundred and fifty eight total pages, it is a trek but no death march. As with any trek, though there will be days. But, then there will really be days! Am I right, a hyuck, hyuck.

The length is not the deterrent. The printing of the book intimidates. At least my copy. That is why I bought it. It looked too heavy for a book that size. A thing that is larger than physics allows but your eyes empirically cannot deny. Your brain’s rational processors will fill in the reasons that ‘you can’t trust your eyes.’

A phone booth and doctor.

A House of Leaves.

A ship ever at sail on a foreign sea, the life of the house mouse lost.

S/he loses their position in the home.

You lose something you did not know could go missing. The notion of home? An ending spoiled. Don’t let the little ones hear. Something you cannot unlearn but surely there is room for doubt and maneuver. Doubt suffers where there is little room

Something you took for granted. Because there is so much to see and so many things vying for the pleasure of your (everone’s) attention at all times. We cannot process the amount of information we physically can conceive us. We get by and brains fill in the blanks. The way you discover your new car’s blind spot.

《《 》》

Crash. Ah, hell.

《《 》》

But what was to be done? Can you judge yourself for not knowing that your vehicle is afflicted with a blind spot? Sure, but where that at? If you want me I’ll be in the bar. Speculating on some dreamy nonsense. The thing you did not see in your rearview & side mirrors (electric-adjustable, I’d wager) as you merged lanes, was, by dint of optical physics, unseeable. You cannot adjust for and account for such a variable.

The publishers did not eff around. There is a deliberate concern for both style and balance in the margin setting and lettering layout. There is room to scrawl. If you are into that sort of thing. I am! The luxury of the thick white broadband’s conjunction into right angles about the four verticies gains further dimensionality by its opposing page.

The reflecting pool in the palm. Narcissus finally went mobile. Each page appears with its predecessor and/or successor in symmetry. Consider the leaf of the sheet itself. Two page numbers and each bearing letter matricies yet on but one page. One page in the book holds two pages. Think about that. There ain’t ya’ll entertained? If that is not magic, then ya’ll doin’ it wrong. I see gods contained and present amongst the multiform streams. IHS Bacchus first. Then as Janus. Holding us in the present, pressed fast between the past and the future tense. So the text on each side of the page gives rise to leaf between your fingers as you turn the page.

Let us say, maybe, five hundred and forty pages are geometrically identical in dimension, same squares, same squares. Matrix array with its vectors contained in those critical margins. Two koi ponds reflected about the same axis of symmetry. Simpatico. The more you read, the more the very confined area with unnecessarily tiny pt. font, single spaced. Tight, trim, orderly. And you are drawn in and held fixed in that little space. Rapt. Enraptured.

And then the ratio expands. The page does not seem so small.

The biggest hinderance to the book’s popularity in America was a poor original cipher of the German language. But translating the lyrical prose of Hesse is probably like trying to translate a Japanese character into ‘the English word for it.’ You can pull it off but the English Equivalence is questionable. Americans are poorly positioned to be strong readers of such heavy, often erudite, ultimately, ironic tomes. We do not get the geographical exposure to other cultures.

Hell, we didn’t get the joke.

It fell for it too! The joke of being so dreadfully stoic that the reader would not dare think you were givin’ a ribbin.’ This is a book; An effing long one; I found all these pearls. I’m rich. Made-man. This is a book of power not jokes for blokes.

Sigh. Now, your cracking me up.

The good news is, if you do ever get the joke, it makes you smile and laugh out loud. Then shake your head. Hold on.

Although, states are arguably the same as little countries.

A discussion of the rather interesting history of this book finding expression in the English language

Loud Speakers: Watch Colors & Read Sound! “Beck – Colors” on YouTube

No rights owned. Paying homage.

All the colors.

Beck writes such innocuously infectious pop jams.

What is pop music, anyway?

Genres, huh?

Heard thru headphones Aka cans (big earmuff-lookin’ ones. Obviously.), this song is and is not the same song when it is heard through speakers.

Trying to learn about sound and light these days.

Speakers.  My parents had two floor standing ones that were about three feet tall.

They made sound.  Headphones make sounds. My portable CD player/Cassette Tape Player (deck?)/Radio made sounds.  I also took an entire battalion of d batteries if you wanted to “go mobile.”

“A boombox, in its most basic form, is composed of two or more loudspeakers, an amplifier, a radio tuner, and a cassette and/or CD player component, all housed in a single plastic or metal case with a handle for portability. Most units can be powered by AC or DC cables in addition to batteries.”

Wikipedia (per my March 01, 2019 visit) this page was last edited on 24 February 2019, at 20:24 (UTC).

Citations, huh

Hey, how they do that?

 

 

How headphones work = How speakers work = x

x = using magnetism to turn electrical energy into sound.

Speakers = loudspeakers = electric sound-making machines.

Loudspeakers attach to tiny, earbud headphones (cased inside ear muffs or earbud headphones) and make sound we hear.

Loudspeakers play back.

Loudspeakers turn electricity into sound.

Es_spk 300px-DynElement

Bosch_36W_column_loudspeaker_polar_pattern

Polar plots of a four-driver industrial columnar public address loudspeaker taken at six frequencies. Note how the pattern is nearly omnidirectional at low frequencies, converging to a wide fan-shaped pattern at 1 kHz, then separating into lobes and getting weaker at higher frequencies[50] (Wikipedia)

Stellar site! www.linkwitzlab

Testing a stereo system for accuracy

A sequence of tests is presented below that should reveal to what degree a given stereo system achieves the potential that is inherent in the 2-loudspeaker reproduction format. (See also the more recent Accuracy, spatial distortion and plausibility of the auditory scene article)

A – Pink Noise

Pink noise is a random process with a power spectrum that decreases at a 10 dB/decade or 3 dB/octave rate with increasing frequency. When measured with a 1/3rd octave analyzer, or constant Q filter bank, it has a flat frequency response. Since the critical bandwidth in hearing is approximately 1/3rd octave wide, pink noise tends to give an equal representation of all frequencies in the audio spectrum, from lows to highs. Thus it would seem to be a good auditory test signal, except that we do not have a reference for what it should sound like in an absolute sense. This limits the usefulness of pink noise to comparison tests of A versus B. Pink noise can reveal small physical differences between two sound sources, but it can be difficult to find the cause for those differences or to predict their consequences. Pink noise can drive you nuts, so be careful. Still, pink noise will point to flaws and errors in a sound system.

The tests use various 5 second combinations of L and R  streams of uncorrelated pink noise. What I call Stereo here is actually fuzzy  stereo and has no solid image, but is spatial like a cloud. In Mono the left and right tracks are identical. Left or Right means that there is sound only in one or the other track. 

Download and save pink-alternating3.wav (12 MB). Then burn the file to a CD-R for convenient access and repetition of the 1 minute  sound file.

1    Stereo = L & R 8    Mono
2    Left = L  (R = 0) 9    Stereo
3    Right = R  (L = 0) 10    Left
4    Mono = L = R 11    Right
5    Stereo 12    Mono
6    Mono 13    3 Bursts, 10 cycles @ 3 kHz, -3 dB FS
7    Stereo 14    3 Bursts, 10 cycles @ 300 Hz, -3 dB FS

 

The Cheek Of You, Eco!

Foucault’s Pendulum¤ = Asteroid of a book and author and both have coated me in spec(k)s of poussières d’étoiles forever.

Sister star to The Glass Bead Game: Magister Ludi°, at least in my little ol’ heart.

Trine. Zenith. Allegorical Syzygy?

Funny, for sure. Bless him for that because this book was heavy-wading for this gal.

Until,

I hit p.478 and read the text in the pic below. I, literally, Laughed out Loud; I, figuratively, was Rolling on the Floor Laughing.^

Mystical sumption of the syllogism, or modus ponens. But while this gal fumbles with wordsmithing, here are some juicy open secrets to for you more achievement oriented individuals to add to your trove.

Do you see the connection?

¤ Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data [ed. note: open secret x]

Eco, Umberto

[Pendolo di Foucault, English]

Foucault’s pendulum/by Umberto Eco ; translated from the Italian

by William Weaver—Ist ed.

p. cm.

Translation of: Il pendolo di Foucault.

“A Helen and Kurt Wolff book.”

ISBN 0-15-132765-3

PQ4865.C6P4613. 1989

853′.914–dc20. 89-32212

°Originally published under the title of Das Glasperlenspiel by Fretz & Verlag AG Zürich Copyright 1943.

^ Aka 🤣 FKA (original med. f/k/a) ROLF. This note is for my sister, with love.

Found Notecard that I did not make

Parabolic Paean

There was a poet and his rose, and

A garter stalking both.

And the lady with forgetfulness

Oblivious until remembering the

Tresses of misses: one be model; one be tumbler.

A glass-looking to the star in the west.

A ladder Alice keeps handy.

A’Lateralus

That k/night of the encryption of all those cryptic Coptic scrambles.

Into the apparent innocuous steganography

Duplicitous, serving to conceal and

once concealed, serving hardly anybody

Cryptic.

(Brevity perplexing)

Ambiguity in meaning.

Employing cipher and code. Directory path unrecognized.

Cain and Abel:

Mystified mystics, huh?

Swan, iynx, ibis

Wrynecking at this cockchafer (May) doodlebug.

Khephra, my nighttime sun.

We witness the concluding clause of this instrument,

Writ as an English to Portuguese test.

The translated texts falling under the title of Book

With a keynote of ecstacy.

Marvel that it is just

The Beginning.

Barbarous Barber, oh! god of shears.

Shore them that be certain across their crowns.

Whilst I will show them their tears.

Pulling the tides of moons inside

making oceans bleed from their eyes.

With my lyrical vespers ecstatically heralding a wandering star’s return.

Harken, Venus.

Ariandte howls feral heat

Inviting Dionysus to the feast

Of Two Wandering under the Midnight Sun.

The Aura of Alice: Nikaia.

The model of an acrobat.

Circling tangled loops at the thought of a question as such:

If desire be not love; then what of feeling the desire to love?

Ecstatic coronating of this al-chymical betrothal

Lovers become beloveds.

Missives of purpose with intent embuing metaphysical eternal

While Elemental attendants runner it in a return back

To ward now.

Toward and from. Hither ampersand Thither.

But never former

Vows renewed through every flux of lung-moving breath need not be formally avowed at one big affair.

Mavericks each having Sun and Moon self-contained..

The quarrel of Aura to Artemis thusly resolved

Through electromagnetic absolve.

Twice born Dionysus with his lawful Ariandte resurrected.

The Hypnerotomachia of Poliphilo dreaming. Polia.

The Beautiful Dream of awakening to the mayor’s young daughter.

The dreams of Christian Rosenkreutz. Married indeed.

Are you not unbored? Then let me rub the fur of your fuzzy heart wrong.

The stimulant Irritate.

Irritating you up to

Irate.

I rate this meter, but am not its maid.

I am handmade anew everyday

Because I am dying to wake up and out my sleeping dreams.

Ae’ll not serve you potions of soporific words.

Funny how they seem so meek yet it is they who will rape you in your sleep.

Ae keep you awake to seek ‘the awful lucidity of insomnia’

where you will re-enliven in a world where heroines are no longer satisfied with mere men.

Wanting Pharaohs but no longer remembering

They had once created them with mere mortal men.

These are the blood tears the children of nations will so cry.

Just as Satan has been sleeping the whole time.

The blood of the lamb, replaced with lanolin.

Empurpling petals bloom inside.

As I gather your lips into mine.

Slow swaying to a band playing our saraband.

Gauzy dress of cotton becoming feathers beswanning me.

Ensorcelled by the pitch-black, starless hue of your suit

You wear the night sky.

And I am an unlit day.

It is now high noon for my midnight sun.

Silver corona glowing in plumes

As we change up the tempo. With more tempting teasing.

Humming: how pleasing it is pleasing.

Harlot to Freedom [disambiguation]

HARLOT

1. Lewd woman; prostitute

2. obsolete, a male servant; a churl

3. A woman in contempt

Per se: anyone, male or female of low birth.

[From Old French ‘herlot’, fellow. ]

CHURL

1. Low-bred, surly fellow

2. A sordid person

3. A peasant

4. English historical, Anglo-Saxon freeman of the lowest rank or without rank.

[From Anglo-Saxon ‘ceorl’, man.]

CHURLISH

Rude, hard to work or manage, intractable

LEWD

1. Characterized by lust, lustful; carnal- licentious

2. Provencial or Archaic, morally depraved, vicious, wicked

[See the Anglo-Saxon ‘læwed’, lay]

LICENTIOUS

1. promiscuous and unprincipled in sexual matters

2. Archaic, disregarding accepted rules, especially in grammar or literary style

Came into Middle English from the Latin ‘licentiosus’ from ‘licentia’, freedom.]

Funk & Wagners, 1943

Oxford English Concise, 2008

Terminology Mindmap: Parzifal

Parsifal/Sufi Connection

As I research Parsifal/-zifal, I like to jot unexpected correspondences. Here is one involving the Sufi tradition. The quick quote below is included in a Sufi meditation manual that came into my possession a year and a half ago.

“The radiance of the streamers emanating from the shoulder blades has, when unfolded, often been compared by Sufi’s with a mantle of light. In the Parsifal legends, it was because there were holes in the mantle of Anfortas that the evil forces of the night were able to attack him.” Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan. The Ecstasy Beyond Knowing: A Manual of Meditation. 2014. p47

Anafortas: the wounded Fisher King who guard the Grail at Munsalvaesche.

[Perceval arrives at the Grail Castle, to be greeted by the Fisher King. From a 1330 manuscript of Perceval ou Le Conte du Graal by Chrétien de Troyes, BnF Français 12577, fol. 18v]

Below is the context in which the quote above is presented. The reader is being given meditation methods to enliven these ideas. Parsifal is not mentioned again.

The (life) energy fields includes the electrostatic and electromagnetic fields, the aura, called bioluminescence (light body?), the sonic field, and perhaps fields of other alternate forces (chi force; etheric body, which pulses with your breath; celestial body.) p46

“The energy in the human electromagnetic field flows in manifold ways. You may distinguish [sic. seven total ways including]…..vi) streamers (plumes of energy). ” p46

The concept of energy pluming from your body can be illustrated by:

1) Energy streaming above the head, like the Pentecostal tongues of flame

2) Energy flashing from the temples “as the winged thoughts of Greek Mythology”

3) Energy pluming out from behind the shoulder blades as winglike or cloaklike.

4) Plumes around the temples, included with the wings of the Seraphim.

5) Plumes around the shoulder blades and ankles, as the wings found in images of Hermes or Mercury.

Khan proposes that attributing validity to the existence of such “higher” fields that have so far not yielded to the measurement of science, enables the accounting for some of the uncanny bouts of energy to which contemplatives refer. Examples:

  • The quickening of the Holy Spirit to Christian mystics
  • Ruh al-quddus to Sufi
  • The Shekina among Jewish mystics.

“Actually, we [sic. science & mysticism] have been going along with the assumption that the body emits these fields, but what if the electromagnetic field, in fact, all components of the life field, were the templates, the mold, in which the body is being formed?” p. 47

One related meditation practice is listed among other practices given in this section.

  • “Try to feel such streamers emanating from your shoulder blades. Envision them as unfolded and draped around your back, affording a kind of protection, or even as the robe investing the initiate into the Hermetic tradition. All the above practices will need to be extended to the aura of light.”p48

Found notecard rambling…

Watch “Tears For Fears – Shout (Official Video)” on YouTube

1980’s music review continued:

It becomes apparent my heart has quite a soft spot for Tears for Fears.

According to Pop-up Video (VH1 circa 1990’s) this song relates to the idea of scream therapy. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like.

Further, we the audience, receive bass and guitar solos.

An effing innocuously delicate percussive intro.

He tells us he is talking to us.

To you.

Can you list the things you could “do without?”

“In violent times, you shouldn’t have to sell your soul.

In black and white, they really, really ought to know,

Those one track minds.

They gave you life and in return you gave them hell.

I hope we live to tell the tale.”

/ Insert surprisingly painless synth jam. It grooves proper for pop /

Decent sax?!

If I could change your mind, I’d really love to break your heart.

An almost seven minute radio release?

Yes, please.

Thank you, kindly.

Much, obliged.

The Summer Sphere

Set amongst a group of a dozen bystanders,

I watched the boat burst into flames

Ten yards into the bay.

A man runs to the lapping shore.

Drives his body deeper, diving into a falling wave.

We were not sure why.

No one was aboard.

The sopping wet man returns to say:

I’ve ruined my phone.

While coming ashore.

Fire twirls on the water table worktop.

Contradicting.

Through an oil burning medium.

The invisible lucifermatch

White stick.

Head struck and aflame.

Hum.

The nearest bystander to my right:

Wow!

I continue saying nothing.

Again: Wow!

Again: nothing continued

Can you believe it, he said?

Well, I’m seeing it, but the question of that reality requires a lot of words.

Maybe we should get a coffee and watch this fire burnout? He asked.

How kind, of you. Metaphysically speaking, as we would be, it is arguable that we will if we have not already done so. So, in this timeline I decline, kindly.

There are whispers that Klingsor’s summer and spear is near.

Watch “Marvin Gaye – Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler)” on YouTube

Top ten daydream involves being able to sing this well.

Hot damn.

What a man.

This song in particular. The harmonies, the percussive vocals.

Such a gorgeous song for such a serious subject matter.

Absolutely includes Gaye giving a scream to rival any rocker.

To call a stone panther.

The braches on boughs broke.

Lying lifeless. Casualties of the white out.

Lost soldiers, abandoned by their unit.

Under the weight they could not withstand.

Only now revealed

Sheets melted.

Perfect circle encircling more circle.

Inside.

There is a blackstone panther, she re-enlivens each night

A path of sprawling

Stalking prowl.

The little girl awaiting her bus told me so.

She tugged my coat and pointed as I passed: I see her at night.

Does she have a name, I ask?

She just nods and waves.

Passing,

I smile and turnaway.

I Tense My Neck

With back straight,

Í asked you, “do you try hard too?”

The snow reduced me to pencil,

#2

Bleeding out my pens proper.

Wondering about that table of six í auto-gratted

in the Tavern five years prior.

My lead cracks.

Mark darker.

And then í find,

one pen left in my fold.

Shortstop

Between run and go.

A dash of dalliance

Unconcerned with with prose that came before

Or wilt

Would be.

Her hands would shake?

Ledges are not only

but also for leaping.

They told me “no.” Which is always within rights, but í was left confused.

Í cannot remember asking anything

Lend a

Hand, right?

Play your vinyl

Remove the album sleeve.

Put your diamond down, glasscutter.

45 rpm.

I see none involving nengk.

I feel like a chemist when I boil water.

Astood upon three toes.

Oops

now four.

And the sky matches the ground.

He told me we ought to blow it up.

The snow.

Cuz of the moon.

An allotment of the ailment is being carried

By wagonmasters & confronters.

I pay attention to your punctuation.

Sometimes my teeth bend but don’t break in my bad dreams.

Of getting ready for Gertrude’s party

That never happens.

Disproportionate response.

Unreeving.

Receive the rowen.

We worked double overtime.

And looked into your mother’s eyes.

She could not smile then but she does now.

As assiduous as inexorable is

My final defenses are indeafsible.

A prerogative disinclined toward extravagance,

As much as the silver sliver of

The new moon is caustic

And the lurdan lurid.

The succubus and incubus work in tandem.

One pulls rope and the other gathering eggs.

No small surprise they work in sleep’s misty revue.

A dæmon to a dreamed of demon that never derived from the proper diabolical.

A small child born.

A mom and dad.

And suddenly you stroke your chin,

And I miss my train

Of thought again.

Scraps of yellow bits scatter my room

And I sit indian style.

Crossed.

Bow drawn. Arrows all a’quiver.

Quivered and quivering.

Set asleep amongst the Ingessana Hills.

Children recover souls they did not know

They missed.

We are the doctor-diviners with a sleepy second sight.

We dream the dreams the sleepers cannot fathom

Until awakening.

There is no need to fear.

I see none involving nengk.

A Concealment of Collective Nouns

Morbid effery from the monkeyed,

Landed gentry.

Luxurious as late night coffee with heavy cream.

Laden.

All the crawfish fixing to get boiled.

Cloves of garlic

Resting on claws

Coalescing correlations.

Corrections to iterations

Deshelled and /de/tailed

Consumption.

Silver eyes against armor-alled all red

Whiskers a’faced to

Terraced tails.

Rampant mud and bug

With a dropped bouquet.

The slow crawl of the limited engagement

Leaves above my head.

Shining.

Í will make you look up and remember the sky.

You forget your breath

(Ampersand)

You lose a life.

I forged injunctions

Duplicitous & with steely reinforcement.

Silversmithing.

The pleasure of the written word. Consummate.

The change in our handwriting over time.

Fingering out your new font

Of pen scratch.

Scrawled.

Sprawling.

And my rhythm dictates a tempo for our saraband.

Shorthand.

You should always carry a handkerchief.

Cotton is fine. Print or naught.

It is not you that will use it

Anyhow.

So remove from that top drawer.

Overly ajar.

《》

A black rectangle

Framed in an indigo field. Ræching.

《》

What do we know of destruction?

Or why the paper need be canary.

Elongation in enunciation is

A mispronunciation.

Two blankets for the two ankles outside

Tonight.

Headed stones of fuzzy beasts

Sette

Atop footed cherrywood.

Vascular knotted circuitry

(<subterranean>)

A slip of the hips,

a flick of fingers.

Full affront of the suites

Merely one of a sort of resorts available

To your privy.

The pluck of pages.

Should they dissuade?

Is it prey to the præter-?

They said some really mean things about some really mean people. What do you suppose that means?

Felled and befell.

Sometimes it is hard to tell an l from I from a 1.

But no one ever mentions this.

A notice noticed. Even if misunderstood.

I drank the coffee to stay

Sharp in my sleep.

I sleep with a steno

Padded

Petrified enfossil.

A sordid seizure of a hardened fruit pit.

Dishollowed.

Where countenance meets disposition.

Heavy like

Wet denim.

cassette à fleur

I shift shoulders,

Crackly, a’tængled.

Naught not knotted.

Capacity and current

Contained by my spine.

Contracting.

Runs amok until

Corrected to both

convex & concave

Context.

Back braced

And arching.

Bending

Bow

To arrow.

Column of my chord.

Given immobility put to good use

In postures

Not posturing.

Posing but no poser.

Calf cramps

Paces inside

In sides.

Sidling as slides.

Sliding the sphere of my cəntər

Recanter.

And əntərs.

My abdomen to

My solar plexus

through

To my head.

Red , Terracotta , orange

Yellow , Green, Indigo.

Amid

White

Black.

All then red.

When cultivating a rose, they account for size, form, color,

Substance

Stem & Foliage

Balance

&

Proportion

(but wə can turn anything into a competition, I’d wager)

An ugly rose?

Hum

Birds and bees do not notice.

Lao Tzu or The American Rose Association Rule Book.

Misnamed. Mislabeled.

!

Dont let the roses pick up on that vibe.

Or the glass embracing it might break.

The rose and the vase.

This translates to a title.

Watch “INXS – Never Tear Us Apart” on YouTube

A recent conversation left me reexamining my mental (re)collection of the 1980’s music scene. I came from an acoustic, Martin, early 1960’s to gritty 1970’s household, ya see.

Now, I was a young `un during the `80s, not even alive for the full decade. I write from sloppy memory & unresearched timelines.

To wit. viz. My first memories of favorite songs (years before-gasp-receiving my first cd/tape player boombox) include:

1. Phil Collins (solo, post Genesis); Groovy Kind of Love

2. The Beach Boys (see Surf’s Up not Pet Sounds. Giggle); Kokomo

3. Don Henley (solo, stag de La Eagles); All She Wants to do is Dance

My radio cassette player allowed me to record radio to cassette tape. I took great advantage of such a Tape OP.

The draped-on drum production kinda kills me.

Insta-musical carbon dating.

Not necessarily standing the test of time.

Remaining revolutionary.

But hindsight blahblahblah.

I know I’ll take Tears for Fears, INXS, and George Michael (see also The New Radicals 1990’s) most days.

But I thought real hard about what song with which to start a Pressed review.

The 1980’s have some spectacular introductory pieces (ala Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain).

Songs that mesmerize you before they truly begin.

Donnie Darko previously re-popularized Tears for Fears Head Over Heels. Same band, Sowing the Seeds of Love continued a pop sentiment that trickled down to Oasis, Space Hog. REM.

But, as far as knock out 1980’s intros that I can immediately recall, I had to land here with INXS. Vaguely Antish?

P.s. an exemplar par excellence of the use of a 1980’s sax. Too often wrecking a track.

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