dyslexic begonias

This is a plea for help from any home recording enthusiasts in the house ...

I have a BR-8 digital recorder and I want to be able to burn CDs directly from the deck using the CD-R/W on my computer. In lieu of having to purchase a sound card that has digital/optical/RCA input, I'd like to use the digital/optical output on the BR-8 (toslink) or the RCA stereo (analog) output from the BR-8 and send it to my computer via a USB port. I've seen a cable that apparently does this, but it is NOT clear whether I need additional software, hardware or what.

I guess there are two questions:

Is what I would like to do possible? If anyone else has tried this, what have been the results?

Is there a relatively inexpensive (i.e., less than $300) way to accomplish what I would like to do that anyone has had proven success with?

Any input, suggestions, recommendations would be greatly appreciated :)

For those of you who don't regularly visit my website, here's a little announcement that you might have missed. Well, it's not really the announcement of a thing, it's more the formation of a concept that has worked its way into at least some level of virtual reality.

Soon to be available for groovy headset stereo listening ... some time First Quarter 2003

Borrowed from , who borrowed it from :
If my life was a movie, this would be the soundtrack:
Opening Credits: It's a Boy (The Who)
Waking Up Scene: A Love Supreme (John Coltrane)
Car Driving Scene: Pusherman (Curtis Mayfield) or Low Rider (War)
High School Flashback Scene: Hollow Inside (The Buzzcocks) or Submission (Sex Pistols)
Nostalgic Scene: Sweet Hour of Prayer (The Osborne Brothers)
Bitter, Angry Scene: You're Breaking My Heart (Harry Nilsson)
Break-up Scene: It's All Over Now, Baby Blue (Bob Dylan)
Regret Scene: How Do You Sleep? (John Lennon) or Sisters of Mercy (Leonard Cohen)
Nightclub/Bar Scene: Jesus Left Chicago (ZZ Top)
Fight/Action Scene: The Boys Are Back in Town (Thin Lizzy)
Sad, Breakdown Scene: Coney Island (Lou Reed) or Blind Love (Tom Waits)
Mellow Scene: Cosmic Charlie (Grateful Dead) or Clara Clairvoyant (Donovan)
Dreaming About Someone Scene: Here There and Everywhere (Beatles) or Madame George (Van Morrison)
Dreaming Scene: Only a Northern Song (Beatles) or Moonchild (King Crimson)
Sex Scene: Do Your Thing (Isaac Hayes: All 17+ minutes of it ... LOL)
Contemplation Scene: Black Mountain Side (Led Zeppelin) or Up From the Skies (Jimi Hendrix)
Chase Scene: New Rose (The Damned) or Coolidge (The Descendants)
Happy Love Scene: The Moonbeam Song (Harry Nilsson)
Happy Friend Scene: My Best Friend (Jefferson Airplane)
Death Scene: Never Can Say Goodbye (Jackson Five)
Funeral Scene: Great Gig in the Sky (Pink Floyd)
Closing Credits: Everything is Beautiful (Ray Stevens)

Lifted joyfully from . I think you'll get the drift of it, it's pretty straight-forward :)
Grateful Dead
Bob Dylan
David Crosby
Armstrong, Louis
Neville Brothers
Cocker, Joe
Elvis Presley
Springfield, Buffalo
and for the “meme purists” in the house :=}
Going Back
Be Bop a Lula
Dark Star
All Along the Watchtower
Never Trust a Man (with Egg on His Face)
Chicago/We Can Change the World
Everybody's Got Something to Hide ('Cept for Me and My Monkey)
Suspicious Minds
and introducing my own variants ...
Good
Bards
Deserve
Appointments to
Nice
Cushy
Employment
Situations
and
Grand notions oft belie a base design;
Be wary if the style hides the substance.
Don't be afraid to seek behind the scenes,
And listen to the sound behind the words.
No truth was ever found without looking --
Caught between the illusion of being, and
Existing merely in the imagination,
Some things need your thought to become alive.

OK, absolutely subjective here. My top 20 lyricists (that is putters of words to music), of popular music that is sung. Now, of course, one could include librettos from operas, or any number of rappers in this list. And not so much a list of lyricists who have written things that changed my life as a whole, but rather those whose application of their craft changed the way I think about lyric writing and songs in general. I'd like to limit the list to my immediate sphere of influence, in no particular order:

1. Willie Nelson
2. Bob Dylan
3. Cole Porter
4. Sammy Cahn
5. Bruce Springsteen
6. Patti Smith
7. Lou Reed
8. John Prine
9. Kris Kristofferson
10. John Lennon
11. Brian Eno
12. Jon Anderson
13. Ian Anderson
14. Neil Young
15. W. S. Gilbert
16. Smokey Robinson
17. Brian Wilson
18. David Crosby
19. Tim Rice
20. Bernie Taupin

Almost busted in Laredo,
but for reasons that I'd rather not disclose
But if you're staying in a motel there, and leave,
don't leave nothing in your clothes
--- from Me and Paul, by Willie Nelson

I don't know how many of ya'll know this, but I was a country singer and songwriter for a number of years. Perhaps surprising, considering the vapid state of modern country music, but I was raised on Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, George Jones, Bill Monroe and Hank Williams, thanks in large part to my grandmother's record collection. As a result, I'm probably one of the few people I know that can do a note-for-note rendition of the George Jones' classic "The Door". Why this is important, I'm not sure I can say. Of course, my proclivities were always to outlaw country --- they had better lyrics, and far fewer Nudie suits. Of course, the bars were a bit more dangerous (although, in retrospect, being a more dangerous place, philosophically, than Gilley's, say, is a difficult feat to accomplish).

Why I bring it up, I'm also not quite sure. But there it is. A little slice of Americana. Pre- alt.country. As Johnny Cash once put it, "alternative to what?"

The current state of the industrial-hitmaking-profiteering-carpetbagging-artistic nondeveloping music industry makes me sick. In all genres generally, but in country music in particular.

Bah.

One of the first songs I heard of Peter Gabriel's, and first sang and learned to play around 1981.

From Peter Gabriel's album, Car 77, although the version I learned, which is I think a much more poignant, minimalist rendition (Gabriel voice and solo piano only), is on Robert Fripp's Exposure album:

Here Comes The Flood

When the night shows
the signals grow on radios
All the strange things
they come and go, as early warnings

Stranded starfish have no place to hide
still waiting for the swollen Easter tide
There's no point in direction
we cannot even choose a side.

I took the old track
the hollow shoulder, across the waters
On the tall cliffs
they were getting older, sons and daughters

The jaded underworld was riding high
Waves of steel hurled metal at the sky
and as the nail sunk in the cloud,
the rain was warm and soaked the crowd.

Lord, here comes the flood
We'll say goodbye to
flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent in any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.

When the flood calls
You have no home, you have no walls
In the thunder crash
You're a thousand minds, within a flash

Don't be afraid to cry at what you see
The actors gone, there's only you and me
And if we break before the dawn
they'll use up what we used to be.

Lord, here comes the flood
We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent
in any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.

Over at Goddessing, the question was raised, "Are there any pagan proverbs?"

Because I see myself as a pagan constructionist, as opposed to a pagan reconstructionist, I find myself having to create my own proverbs. Sometimes, I find they have been referenced by others; and often in surprising ways. Because I also think as a poet, often the distillation of a thought that is required to create poetry results in aphorisms or pithy memorable quips that can serve as proverbs. Many have found such memorable lines in my work (often to my surprise), such as the Druid Animal Sonnets, which I wrote to clarify in my own mind the lengthy text provided by Phillip Carr-Gomm in his Druid Animal Oracle.

Others come upon me quite by chance, like the line: "We are not lost in these woods, nor are they lost in us", which describes my feeling about Druidry. I think part of what is lacking in Paganism is a sense of liturgy (which would include scripture, proverbs and hymns). Often the rituals are obscure, or overly complex, and do not directly connect the observer to the observed. As a result, there doesn't seem to be the immediacy and connection between the mundane and magickal that devices, such as proverbs, offer other religious practioners.

Some suggested pagan proverbs might be:
"There is no mundane"

or Gandhi's famous quote:
"You must be the change you wish to see"

or to borrow from St. Exupery (and I seem to be doing that a lot lately):
"What is essential is invisible to the eye"

I would also think that the Irish triads, and probably the meditations of Marcus Aurelius, qualify as pagan proverbs.

The problem is that there is not a single stream of "pagan" tradition. By its very nature, each tradition is more or less insular, and relies upon its own particular history for its inspiration. In some cases, that history is convoluted at best; in others, there really is NO history to speak of, or that history has been, to some extent, invented. But certainly there are many primary and secondary sources that contain pearls of wisdom that could be thought of as proverbs.

If you wander down the right hand column of this blog's home page, you'll see a link that looks like this:

I'm once again, for a limited time only, offering site visitors the opportunity to download my eBook (in PDF format) of pagan-related essays on Paganism and Druidry, seasonal and liturgical poetry and lyrics (including the infamous Pagan Fight Song). The contents also include the entire cycle of Druid Animal Sonnets to date - including some newer sonnets not available in the version posted on the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids (OBOD) website.

Bright Blessings, ya'll.

or completely rewrite one I've already written. I do have, for example, a work called "The Trial of Nesorna" that is the story of the struggle between independent thought, liberty and personal responsibility against a theocratic state. The first three scenes I have already rewritten completely in unrhymed iambic pentameter verse (IPV). Some of it works very well, and some of it doesn't. Of course, IPV does lend itself to very excellent monologues ...

Not much hope in getting it performed, however; unless some down on its luck Shakespearean company wants to branch out :)

See more progress on: write a play

and seeing outtakes from the '68 TV special, reminded me of something. So far as I am aware, I am the only Elvis impersonator who has ever performed "If I Can Dream". Not too many, I think, could have pulled it off.

You know, I've just clarified in my own mind my purpose as a poet, who is also a pagan. I was clued into this epiphany by a recent comment from Apocalyptic Blogger, who said that my "poems are the type of poem that contains a sharpened sense of thematic potency and strength; they lead to better understanding of the said poems' topics (such as human nature and the like.)".

And it struck me that the most common underlying thread in most of my work is an exploration of human nature. My own and by extension human nature as a whole. As below, so above. As in the microcosm, so in the macrocosm.

But if I had to clarify this down even further, to produce some kind of ghee from the churned butter that is my mental process, I could reduce my underlying message to a simple sound-byte:

Human Nature. Neither a curse, nor an oxymoron.

And that pretty much sums up my philosophy.

Human beings are part of nature. They are not separate from it, nor are they in any sense the ultimate expression of it. They are not the end of the food chain, nor do they represent the final step in an evolutionary theory that somehow miraculously went on for tens of millions of years and then, poof, stopped when as they say in most scriptures written by man, man appeared. They are subject to, and not exempt from, the laws of nature that govern EVERY other species on this planet. The fact that we deny our share of punity under this law is the reason why we are destroyers, not creators. Our myth of "Power Over" is not only killing off the stage upon which we enact that myth, but it's killing us off as well.

Yet human nature is not something to be overcome, to be denied, to feel is some kind of divine punishment. It is not something to "rise above" or "transcend". It is what it is. Human beings may have bigger brains, opposable thumbs, more complex thought patterns, the ability to empathize, and so on. Well, from whom much is given, much is expected. And who is doing the expecting? The rest of creation, that's who. They don't owe us, either their flesh, their territories, their ores, their energies. WE OWE THEM.

"The problem," he said, "with making life so easy, particularly for the young adult, is two-fold. First, a life of leisure without significant responsibility or strife is bound to result in an attitude of mere idolent malaise --- which of course is far from intense enough to serve as the impetus for any angst-ridden revolution or major shift in philosophy."

"Secondly, the parents of such youngsters, who must deal with the nebulously undefined childish and ultimately selfish agendas resulting from their offspring's lack of needful action, are likewise never taxed, insofar as their abilities to deal with REAL paradigm shifts are concerned. As a result, they become weak and flimsy shadows of their potential selves, and are woefully unequipped to counter the nefarious attacks of those unscrupulous individuals (and their attendant organizations, religions, governments and so on) who would shape the moral fiber of their children so that future generations will not even be aware, let alone care, that the world does not belong to them, or that they have been forced to in effect pay rent on their own bodies to afford the luxury of being alive with absolutely no free will whatsoever."

"What was once adolescence," he continued, "I therefore think would be better off termed 'addled essence.' It is at this critical stage that those in power first successfully attempt to convince people that they are in fact powerless, hopeless and witless --- by offering them courses in empowerment, positive thinking and entertainment."

"They are like the young elephant, who when relatively weak and small is attached, via a lightweight chain and metal hoop around their leg, to a stake in the ground. At that young age, no matter how they try, they cannot free themselves. After a time, they give up trying. As a result, even when they are fully grown and could easily pull out the stake and/or break the chain simply by lifting their enormous foot a matter of inches, they can be controlled, and do not attempt to escape, when tethered in this fashion."

OK, so maybe ya'll didn't miss it.

On the slight off-chance that you did, it's back. Country music that thinks about the whole country. Flyover parts and all.

Much more to come.

Back in the day, when I was actively playing music, I put together a site called "Country and Midwestern" to showcase my songwriting, recorded demos, live gigs, etc., as well as vent a little about the state of the music industry.

Well, since it looks like I may be getting involved a bit here locally in the music scene, it seemed a good time to resurrect C & MW. So I've created a separate blog to coordinate all that musical goodness, particularly as it relates to alt.country, Hot New Country, Americana, Cosmic American Music, and those associated genres.

Take a look and let me know what ya'll think. As always, the place to make your comments is back at the source, in this case, Country and Midwestern.

;)

Well, we have been approved to purchase a home to replace our destroyed piece of toxic New Orleans swampland, and should be closing on the deal by the 19th of this month. So, we'll be in for Christmas :)

It will feel so good to be under our own roof, running under our own power once again ... and to have a separate room available for my office/studio, so that music may again begin in earnest...

Some other pictures of the house are here.

Don't say there's nothing good on television.

The other day I was watching TV and a commercial came on that featured U2's The Edge walking through the toxic streets of New Orleans, picking up broken guitars. It then showed him handing a new guitar to an elderly blues musician.

Turns out Edge is the spokesman for a Nashville-based organization called Music Rising, which is in turn a segment of the MusiCares foundation, a relief fund to assist musicians who have been affected by natural disasters, war, etc. Music Rising is an ambitious program to put instruments back into the hands of every New Orleans (or other Katrina-area) musician who lost everything in the hurricane. Without the music of New Orleans people, Edge so accurately puts it, there's not much reason to rebuild, nor much really to do it with.

So I visited their website. What's required to apply for aid is demonstrated work in the music industry for at least five years, and also proof of residence in the hurricane disaster area. So I applied. And guess what? At the end of next week using a special phone number, I am callling Musician's Friend and placing an order for replacement instruments. Anything in stock at 25% off up to a specified limit (it's the same for everybody).

Musicians from New Orleans, Pay Attention to This

If you haven't already, and you qualify, sign up. I think time is running out, and they're working on a first-come, first-served basis. I believe you'll only have from the 16th to the 30th of this month to place your order, and it takes a couple of days for them to review your application in Nashville. So get on this, if you're a musician from New Orleans that's lost musical equipment. Believe me, this is a far better alternative than trying to justify buying a guitar before a new washer/dryer. And that FEMA/SBA money doesn't cover luxury or specialty items anyway.

Happy Christmas, yes?

In case you're interested in this sort of thing, as of this moment I am on the record stating the following endorsement:

John Litzenberg uses and prefers Epiphone guitars and acoustic instruments, Kustom amplification and Dean Markley strings.

Epiphone, are you out there? Like to make a deal?

When it's a-jar.

You know, they say that for every door that closes, another one opens, right? Hell, I've even said that and believed it.

Well, sometimes that door really isn't closed, after all.

I used to also say that life was like a door, swinging between the two rooms of reality and fantasy. We're hanging on that door for dear life, rocking it back and forth sometimes slowly, sometimes fast. Too slow, and life gets boring. Too quickly, and things get a wee bit dangerous.

Taking drugs, I once quipped, was like putting WD40 on the hinges of that door. It helps reduce the squeaks, and makes the swings bigger and faster. Problem is that some people's hinges aren't attached quite as well as they ought to be, and the door shimmies loose of its foundation, slips off the hinges, and the door flies off into one room or the other --- hardcore fantasy, or hardcore reality --- and stays there. Sometimes it wing-dings so far into that one room that you can't even see the doorway to the other anymore. Guess that makes psychoanalysis somewhat akin to carpentry. It's all about getting yourself aligned, and staying plumb.

Anyway, my mate and I have been giving this full-time band thing (with Jeff Rachall that is) some careful consideration. She came out to the gig Saturday night at the Cherokee Club and while she still does not care for country music in the least, and would like to see me more in the spotlight, she likes the guys in the band and can see that it's something I really enjoy.

So ... I think for at least a trial period of say three months, I'm going to commit to play with 'em. Three weekends a month, throughout the whole damn Arklatex. And we'll see what happens...

OK, so I understand tickets for the upcoming Kenny Chesney show in Shreveport are running about $65 apiece. Yours truly, along with Jeff Rachall and 24/7, are opening for Jeff Bates at Roper's in Shreveport next month, a show for which the price of admission is $40.

Now, maybe I'm a little old fashioned. Maybe I come from a slightly different world. But I've seen a lot of shows in my 41 years, and only three times have I paid more than 40 bucks to get in the door. The first time was to see Frank Sinatra at the Long Beach Arena. The second was to see Paul McCartney at the New Orleans Arena. The third was to see an overpriced Elvis tribute concert at the Pyramid in Memphis that featured John Cale, Carl Perkins, Dwight Yoakum, Iggy Pop, L7, Scotty Moore, Mac Davis, Billy Ray Cyrus (among others) and offered a glimpse of the then married Lisa Marie Presley and Michael Jackson. I've paid roughly $35 for festival entry --- and seen, for example in a single day (and it was a FULL day, not a couple of hours) Ricky Skaggs, John Hartford, Peter Rowan, Alison Krause and many more.

Of course, there's really not a bad seat at Roper's. It reminds me a bit of Gilley's --- although smaller, and contained in a single room. There's a big advantage in that it's at the Ramada Inn, so if you work your cards right all you have to do after the show is crawl to a room and sleep.

But I'm not so much thinking that the venue ain't worth the money. I'm thinking that there isn't anybody around in country (save for maybe Merle Haggard -- who I've paid $32 to see, George Jones or Willie Nelson) that I'd throw down more than 35 bucks to see. Not many people in any genre --- perhaps Pavarotti, McCartney again, maybe the Stones would I offer more than $50. Most other folks I can see for much less --- James Brown, Merle Haggard, Dr. John, the Nevilles, Ralph Stanley, BB King, and so on.

It makes me wonder? Who would ya'll spend $50 to see? A legend, or the flavor of the month?

Saturday night before I went onstage with Jeff Rachall to open for Jeff Bates at Roper's in Bossier City, we learned that Buck Owens had died.

I grew up watching Buck on Hee Haw. Between his cutting edge songs, and Roy Clark's blistering virtuousity, my world was filled with a certain kind of country music. Music that didn't compromise, that stood for something, that talked about real people and real times, and was absolutely, unequivocably NOT disposable.

Buck Owens was the real thing. Perhaps too real for Nashville. Perhaps too real for folks wearing designer cowboy boots in Manhattan. Moreso even than Elvis or Johnny Cash (who seemed to have almost otherworldly personas at times), Buck Owens (and with him, Merle Haggard) represented to me the penultimate in what I wanted to achieve as an "artist" --- songwriting, excellent musicians alongside who also appeared to be your friends (to me, it's a toss-up whether the Buckaroos or the Strangers were the best band ever in country music --- that's Country, as opposed to Western Swing or Bluegrass), personal integrity and a willingness to talk about things that meant something to you, as opposed to what people wanted to hear.

Jeff Bates said a few moving words about Buck from the stage once they went on, and his bass player sang a wonderful version of "Together Again."

We typically played "Love's Gonna Live Here Again" as part of our repertoire, and talked briefly about adding it to our opening set as a tribute. To me, that would have given us not only a bit of credibility (because country music is about, if nothing else, knowing and acknowledging your and its history as integral parts of who you are), but also would have shown some respect, and some class. But then again, we played it, I think, because it was on Daryle Singletary's album, not because we as a band really learned anything from the past. That lack of connection is one of the reasons I'm no longer playing with Jeff Rachall. We didn't play "Love's Gonna Live Here Again" Saturday night. Enough said there.

Thank you, Buck Owens, for taking Wynn Stewart's vision and making Bakersfield important to country music. To American music, which is what you and I both prefer to call it.

You are sorely missed.

Rest in Peace: Buck Owens

To Whom It May Concern:

I am a singer-songwriter (over 400 songs), multi-instrumentalist, Berklee alumni (voice major), relocated to Natchitoches after 7 years in New Orleans thanks to Katrina, looking for others to collaborate, form acoustic-based country/blues/folk/rock band, play the Natchitoches area once or twice a month. Prefer others with strong vocals to allow tight harmony ala Everly Brothers, Beatles, bluegrass, traditional country. Americana music ... think Gram Parsons meets Elvis meets who knows?

Ideally, I'd like to work with another songwriter-lead singer-guitarist so that the outcome is not just John and the X, but instead is a united band that has depth through the whole band. I'd like to focus on original material (and covers that speak to our own experience, rather than Top 40 crowd favorites), and definitely incorporate a much more diverse, acoustic sound and also some Louisiana elements as well (i.e., fiddle, mandolin, acoustic guitar, pedal steel, lap steel, accordian, harmonica, etc.) that acknowledges and pays respect to our roots (in my case, bluegrass, Appalachian music, Bakersfield country, blues, folk, etc.).

I'm in Natchitoches, Louisiana. I'd like to focus, at least for the time being, on staying pretty local (north of Alexandria and south of Shreveport) just to keep the mileage (on both me and the vehicles) down. I think I'm at the point in my career where I am not looking to be a guppy in the shark tank, but rather to be big fish in a much smaller pond. I'm not doing this anymore to become famous or rich; instead, I'm interested in smaller, intimate settings where my music can touch individual people and change lives. And I can have a good time doing it.

I am NOT about Hot New Country, and I'm definitely not interested in being a "stick-a-nickel-in" substitute for a jukebox. I'm talking about AMERICAN music. Original music. I'm serious here...if you don't know who Gram Parsons or the Grateful Dead are, or at least two members from either the Strangers, the Buckaroos, the Foggy Mountain Boys or any of Elvis' bands, please do not waste my time, or yours.

I've recently changed the name of my music blog from "Country and Midwestern" to "undertown."

"Undertown" is the name of a poem I wrote while living in Memphis. It probably represents the height of my "Symbolist" phase.

in the undertown around the middle
earthen jars the senseless struggle:
i shall be released from this
before the current pulls me
undertown, around the rooting rockets way
before the dawn of timing, when
our cultured throats scream out so that
the horse-drawn whispers drawl
their quiet haunting innuendoes.

in the undertown beside the river
runs the hiding seeking slumber:
i shall be awakened from this
just before the nightmare finds me
undertown, beneath the covered bridges burnt
before the gods of ego's altar, when
our cultured pearls slide out so that
the tenderloin potential plays
its game of spattered caulking.

in the undertown below the wasteland
roving scarlet head supporters speak:
i shall not believe in this
until the dream has drowned its dead in
undertown, before subtle shaded sadness swells
its mottled cracking smile, and then
our cultured throats slide slow so that
the sword-clamped teeth can grasp
their severed thoughts' aboutness.

1994

Like the bottom part of the wave that actually moves all the water (and can do all the damage), that beneath the surface pulls you in and gives you an appreciation of the ocean, the undertown is that part of any place that provides a glimpse into its true meaning --- beyond the lip service, hypocrisy, glib acceptance speeches and polished recordings. The undertown is where you find the literal and figurative prisons of a place, its dark secrets and hidden longings. You find what a place truly wants to be, and people willing to stand up and do what is necessary to make it happen.

In the context of American music, the undertown is what doesn't get played on Country radio. A connection to country's roots, an absolute absence of disposable music - reverence and relevance where it is due, and iconoclasm where it is required. Bluegrass, folk, Appalachia, Western swing, hillbilly, hick, redneck, rural, Bakersfield, Austin, midwestern, plains, poor, downtrodden, spiritual music. The music that represents the America you don't see on MTV, VH1 or CMT. The America that doesn't require (or for that matter, appreciate) reality TV.

Just in case you're interested ...

In the name of mental health, and also for a number of other reasons, I have opted to combine what were once two separate sides of my life (Radical Druid - where I tried to focus on poetry, poetics, spirituality and general philosophy and Country and Midwestern - where I tried to focus on my musical being, with a particular interest in country and Americana music and a bent toward life in rural America) into a single, cohesive unit. This provides a number of benefits to you, the reader; not the least of which is that you only have to go to one place (or add one syndicated LJ account - radicaldruid) instead of two or more to find out what's happening with me. Of course, I do have additional sites, but they are primarily for MP3 hosting and those kinds of specialty things.

For me, the benefits are numerous as well. In addition to not worrying where to post what, and who will read it, I also am provided the bonus of having readers who come for one thing --- i.e., country and western lyrics, or looking to hire a guitarist or whatnot --- also at the same time getting a pretty good understanding of where I am philosophically, politically, morally and spiritually. That way, nobody gets any surprises --- unless, of course, you're one of those kinds of people who think that everything (and everyone) belongs in neat, tiny little boxes that can be quickly given a Dymo label and shuffled off into a "that's the way the world works" file. But if you're one of those kinds of people, this site is probably not for you anyway. C'est la vie.

Everybody else still on board? Then away we go, ya'll :)

April is national poetry month. I suppose as a poet that should mean something; and it would, if EVERY month for a poet wasn't poetry month...LOL. However, the purpose is more to raise awareness in non-poets (and young eager minds) about poetry, poets and so on. The sort of shift in paradigm that's, let's face it, very desperately required in any society that doesn't already have poetry worked into the very warp and woof of its daily social fabric. The fact that we have to call special attention to the arts in this country is a sad testament to the invalidity of our national focus. Sure, we can worry about the engineering details, and build bombs and bridges 'til the cows come home. But as Buckminster Fuller once said something like --- "When I'm designing a solution to solve a specific problem, I don't think about whether or not it's elegant or beautiful. But, when I'm finished, if it isn't elegant or beautiful, then it's the wrong solution."

In other words, if beauty, art, music, poetry, culture, nature, sculpture, etc. aren't part of your life on a regular basis, it doesn't matter how technical proficient you are, how many advanced degrees you've got, how far you are up the food chain ... there's something intrinsically wrong, and even ugly, about your life.

Star Nosed Mole, inspired by the folks at National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) has challenged those willing to participate in celebrating National Poetry Month to join them in writing at least one poem a day for every day in April. I have picked up the gauntlet and will be running alongside.

There's a link in the right hand column

for more information.

In case you were wondering.

Come with me on the following hypothetical ...

PART ONE

If you already had the following musical instruments, and were capable of playing each extraordinarily well (I did say it was hypothetical, didn't I?):

Acoustic steel string guitar, electric guitar, mandolin, electric bass and electric lap steel

and

1. You were in the process of creating a 32-track home studio in which to record said instruments,
2. Aforementioned 32-track home studio did offer the ability to build and record pretty decent sounding and flexible rhythm and drum tracks,
3. Your musical focus was alt.country, Americana, progressive bluegrass, and most other kinds of acoustic string music, folk and blues,
4. You had sufficient budget to purchase another instrument, either one additional instrument of pretty good quality, or two of OK quality,
5. You were capable of playing any number of additional instruments rather well, including the choices below, and
6. You could purchase either a dobro (resonator guitar), violin (fiddle) or banjo (remember -- 1 good to fine quality or 2 lower to OK quality)

which new instrument would YOU choose to buy, and why?

PART TWO

If listening to aforesaid recorded music, understanding the following:

1. Traditional "bluegrass" music typically consists of acoustic guitar, bass, fiddle, banjo and (mandolin and/or dobro, usually one or the other)
2. Traditional "country" music typically consists of acoustic and electric guitars, bass, fiddle, lap steel (with optional piano)
3. Traditional "folk" music typically consists of acoustic guitar, bass (optional), mandolin, banjo and fiddle in some combination
4. Traditional "blues" music typically consists of acoustic and/or electric guitar, dobro and bass

which would you personally prefer to listen to?
which would you prefer to avoid?
which would you be interested in seeing performed live?

That's all. End of hypothetical.

Of course, it isn't. Hypothetical, that is; at least for me. Thanks for your insight and comment.

OK, so I decided based in part on the input from my post a few days ago, to purchase BOTH a dobro and fiddle; I was concerned about buying less expensive instruments (so I could get both), but as it turns out, the dobro that I purchased is even better than the more expensive model I used to own. Hopefully, the violin (which is being shipped from Japan and should arrive tomorrow) will be no less a pleasant surprise.

That's not really the big news, though. Now that the instrument component is addressed (electric and acoustic guitars, dobro, bass, mandolin and fiddle) I have begun replace the studio component of what was lost in New Orleans. That should also be arriving this week - meaning that as early as this weekend I may be able to start recording using a new 32-track digital home studio.

So you're saying ... and what does this have to do with me?

Well, first off, once I start recording again, I plan on distributing music via the Internet, primarily for sale. A number of you have expressed interest in receiving said music in the form of CDs.

Second, is there anything in particular that you've seen here, lyrics-wise, or demo-wise, that you're particularly interested in hearing, or in me recording (either again, or for the first time)? I'm completely open to suggestion, if only because the volume of material I have to choose from is somewhat overwhelming.

So speak up. What songs do you want me to record? No request outright refused.

While reading the latest biography of George Harrison, Here Comes the Sun: The Spiritual and Musical Journey of George Harrison, by Joshua M. Greene -- which I first read excerpted in Yoga + Joyful Living magazine [formerly Yoga International -- I came across the following bit of inspirational thinking that made me thankful to be a musician, or at least to have enough musical sensibility and talent to be able to take advantage, if I were so inclined and felt suffiently worthy to do so. Apparently, it's an old Indian formula that was brought to the west via the Hare Krishna movement as a saying of Lord Chaitanya:

If you read the Vedas a million times
that is the equal of one recitation of japa.

Nothing is higher.

Link to the book, which was quite wonderful to read, is in the Now Reading column to the right on my blog.

Hare Krishna Hare Rama

for William Blake

Lo! I have wrestled angels in the catacombs of night
and risen, as if from the dead, bone-weary, at daylight,
my sheets soaked through with fevered sweat and every muscle sore,
and tufts of mutilated feathers scattered on the floor,

to find the world transformed in just a single evening's span
from one of warmth and sunlight to a shadow, pale and wan,
bedraped with funereal shrouds, their edges dipped in mist,
that turn to bitter gray and cold cheeks summer once had kissed.

And from that sleep like unto death, where angels and I tossed,
I woke not knowing why we fought, nor if I won or lost,
nor why the air that morning no more smelt of life's perfume,
but seemed to hang like sullen, leaden clouds there in my room.

From my opponents, not a word, no revelation come;
as if they were but ancient ghosts, their voices long since dumb,
or worse, bereaved of speech and reason, just their body's shells,
imprisoned in my dreams between their heaven and my hell.

I felt a sense of deep foreboding creep into my mind,
as if there should have been some message they had left behind,
some alchemic instruction, some archaic mystic key;
but I found nothing in the room, except what seemed like me.

I wondered then, if they were truly angels, or disguised
as such, mere demons I had conjured up to fantasize
some victory against the darkness of my thoughts of late;
some active principle to best my wont to hesitate

borne deep of my subconscious mind, where inhibitions fail
and dreams are formed of both apocalypse, and holy grail,
or if it was a memory brought out by some distress.
I wonder, what if William Blake had been taught to repress?

06 DEC 2006

Don't want much, but that's all right
Nothing much happens here on Saturday night
Get laid, get drunk, get in a fight
Maybe all three
Maybe at the same time

Don't need nothing, but that's OK
Nothing much here to speak of, anyway,
Get up, get old, collect your pay
Maybe all three
Maybe if the sun shines

This little town can sure get you down
Hard to find a reason to keep hanging around
Sure ain't no doubt the old rural route
is not the quickest way if you're hellbent to get out
Little town dreams, and little town schemes
keep us separated, too much space in between
But don't let the welcome sign turn you around
The world is a small town.

Don't say much, but that's just fine;
Nobody really listens to me, most of the time;
Get riled, get hot, get out of line
Maybe all three
Maybe if I'm tipsy

Don't ask much - that's just as well;
Nothing doing here - it's either flood or a dry spell.
Get set, get wet, give yourself hell
Maybe all three
Maybe the way it should be

This little town can sure get you down
Hard to find a reason to keep hanging around
Sure ain't no doubt the old rural route
is not the quickest way if you're hellbent to get out
Little town dreams, and little town schemes
keep us separated, too much space in between
But don't let the welcome sign turn you around
The world is a small town.

22 DEC 2006

Praise for the sun born on this night
Praise for the coming of the light
On winter's longest stretch of dark
We praise the tiny, faintest spark

Praise for the coming of the new
Praise for the frost, soon turned to dew
When spring's fresh promise comes to all
We praise the fire that starts so small

Praise for the earth that slumbers deep
Praise for the world that finds, in sleep,
The dreams that feed brave summer's deeds
We praise the hibernating seeds

Praise for the sun born on this night
Praise for the coming of the light
Into the dark and bitter cold
We praise the fire as it grows old

Praise for the present and the past
Praise for what fades and what may last
Beyond our sight, beyond our time
We praise the seen and the sublime

Praise for the future and today
Praise what remains, what fades away,
And all things living that will die
We praise the earth, the sea and sky

Praise for the sunlight come again
Praise friend and enemy, and then
For each day forward through the year
We praise the means that brought us here.

24 DEC 2006

This is a test entry.

OK, this is a test post that should flow through to LJ after being posted on my MovableType blog. It is a scheduled post, which means that even though I'm writing it at 6:06 PM CST, it should show up as posted at 6:10 p.m.

If all goes well, that will be the case.

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