dragon dream

hello!

i had the best dream i have ever had in my entire life last night.

in it i met a dragon named glean (as in, to glean) who was the pet of a very old man with long white hair. i think he might have been a mystic or sage from the east. the dragon was very golden, shiny, smooth and cool to the touch with scales like that of a snake, and flecked with green and red all over.

so i have decided that the old man was me, in a way. there was another presence seated beside the man but i still am not sure who or what it was.

i met one of the many me's that exist in my psyche, and i'm pretty sure that this one was my absolute, the truest and deepest and warmest which exists at the core underneath all the layers. the reason i know this is because the smile he had for me was the most tender and loving of all smiles, his presence the most soothing. i felt home in the stillness of his gaze.

when i knelt down to pet the dragon i wept with joy. i remember the feeling very well - i had just come in from being outside, which for some reason was starry deep space, and was not expecting any visitors. i think i was in a bad mood. but when i saw this dragon and the old man, seemingly old friends that i had not seen for a long time, the overwhelming hope i felt was tremendously arresting.

the hope i felt in that moment was basically born of a rich well of memory, perhaps very deeply hidden from a past life, like flashes of life that somehow slipped through the cracks; what shocked me was the remembrance of all the teachings i had received from or through or alongside the old man. teachings about happiness, love, compassion, humility, gentleness, bravery.

bravery is perhaps the most important one out of all, besides love. to be brave is to triumph over darkness, the darkness all humans face. this darkness is not a "devil" figure, nor is it evil; it is fear. fear of meaninglessness, fear of death, fear of sadness, fear of being alone.

i remembered that along with the old man, the knower of all my desires and capabilities and wishes and dreams, i have already won the battle. i have won it countless times, and will continue to win as the war wages on. we war with it daily, and i'm sure you can help me attest to this.

to be able to see beauty once is a victory. to have laid your senses on light and soaked it in, even once, is a blessing worth remembering always, in every lifetime. to find a joy, a masterpiece, a puzzle, something broken that you can fix, someone you can help... victories.

one last thing: after i began crying a bit the old man told me it was time to go. i was a little upset that he wouldn't let me just cry. i must have started to become sad again, and my old habits require me to steep in sadness and treat it as a cure, a cocoon. but my true self didn't want anything to hinder my flight onward and upward.

so the deep stillness of my self is like a primordial parent, my guardian and ultimate benefactor. what i have been attributing to "depression" is a spectre which can be turned off, like a television, with the proper commanding tone born of uncompromising self-assurance.

my daily practice, and maybe yours too, if you wish, is to embrace the uncarved block of wood.

love what you already are, admire all that you already have.

ى

cвітлана hяньо - "bilalis"
music the world does not see, 2014

svitlana nianio | experimental musician from the ukraine

i also highly recommend her solo album kитиці, or kytytsi

this track is from a compilation in which the likes of
psychic TV members make an appearance, along with
other industrial and obscure (yet incredible!) musical acts

عل

p'o - "blind tim"
whilst climbing thieves vie for attention, 1983

now THIS is something weird, almost puzzlingly so...
perhaps you'll be interested to know that the members
of this band began in wire.    enjoy.

الا

john fahey - "stomping tonight on the pennsylania/alabama border"
death chants, breakdowns and military waltzes, 1963

"this record is for those who remember" (p. 3/liner notes)

i was reminded to re-visit john fahey when i came across this piece on the hum's blog
(really interesting and diverse content there, actually)

this album, after also hearing the amazing and transcendental requia,
is a rich tapestry of influences and pure musical genius.

fahey's playing glitters and soars.

regarding the following track (in jf's words):

"the opening chords are from the last movement of  vaughan williams' sixth symphony. it goes from there to  a skip james motif. following that it moves to a  gregorian chant, 'dies irae'".

في

hoover - "electrolux"
the lurid traversal of route 7, 1994   i have been quite enthralled by this DC-based post-hardcore band as of late,
namely their 1998 reunion self-titled album

but then there's this track from the debut...

tell me how you like this deep cutting bliss, will ya?


radio flyer - "ice cream cheater"
in their strange white armor, 1997
more 90s pre-emo post-hardcore

to be honest i never know what to call this stuff, it can be seen
as having influenced/being influenced by a plethora of
genres.    the most important thing to ask yourself, really, is simply:  do you like the way it tastes in your ears?


libro,
cuando te cierro
abro la vida

immeasurable

i wish i could go back in time
we felt love then

our home was fruition
our sky the truth of the
daydream

your touch is a ghost

dear one-who-swims-through

lonely, lush universe

-

sounds,
the latest incarnation of

my heart's wishes

shipping news - save everything (1997)

angles and rhythms formed out of low vibrations

-

shipping news - "haunted on foot"

three-four (compilation, 2003)

soft, emotive melancholy to
rival what remains
in your absence
-

shipping news - "louven"
flies the fields (2005)

to erase the pictures,

-

charlottefield - picture diary EP (2002)

to hide in Nature;

-

the jesus and mary chain - "taste the floor"
psychocandy (1985)

we dragged ourselves in

.

matin ou soir?

i figured out some music i want to write and sound i want to hear -

it is from the realm the acoustic piano.

a grand piano is best, and an older one even better. you press keys on the low end where the strings are thick, and you don't even need a pedal - the sound is rich, warm, and deep. you hold a note down and it remains unchanging for quite a long while. when the decay begins to creep in you release; the silence which remains feels to me suddenly bereft, yet wholesome... it held something. you are reminded of the emptiness of all space, the vastness of it or perhaps the tangibility of it. it is where sound resides, but only temporarily. it is the everywhere containing all that is and is not.

perhaps i wish to expose the shape of space... make it felt, visible, entered through sound. is sound the opposite of that space,  the "silence" we always speak of?

i don't think it's really about the notes. i want to explore the ringing, decaying vibrations which remain after a key and those directly beside are struck with varying amounts of pressure. i recently learned that the volume of the piano is directly correlated with the speed of key depression. infinite amounts of pressures can be applied and combined with each other, and the resultant echoes reverberating on the sound board is the composition. a painting of varying degrees (of temperature) - it can be visual, but my mind struggles to construct an adequate representation using points, lines, angles, color.

i think i am starting to make sense/become more aware of the jumbled sense experience in my head.

what looks like color is actually sensation, what feels like warmth might as well be

a shape,
a room,
a place,
a memory,
a dream

the whole world could be painted in oranges, purples,

hues of movement and light

.

désintégration

now i think of no one anymore
i don't even bother looking for words
it flows in me, more or less quickly
i fix nothing, i let it go
through the lack of attaching myself to words,
my thoughts remain nebulous most of the time
they sketch vague, pleasant shapes and then are swallowed up:
i forget them almost immediately

gardens of subconscious worlds

you know what i love?

when i am thrown into a world where this realm of mind (the place where i dwell so much of every day, that room i love and also hate with the bed i dirty and forget/refuse to wash) becomes no more an other, becomes a vehicle of experience no longer inherently separate.

in this place the mingling of subconsciousnesses begins to flower and a garden is formed, a lush world of merging perceptions and shared sensations.

n

a collage of colors and lights which continually flash, swirl, and arrange themselves in blocks and structures; a unique combination of sound and image that interacts with the subconscious in an infinity of ways; outlines of matter, the objective shapes of which shape their perception and experience;

these vignettes of existence are familiar to most human brains, as it appears to be our function - we receive a constant stream of data that is being transmitted at every level by an unknown generator, and we can't help but seek to do more, more than merely absorb and survive - we almost don't care if we live or die, it would seem.

we are hungry and incessantly dissatisfied with the extent of our hunger, the extent of its unfillablity.

this thing, this trajectory of growth and decay, is always both welcoming and terrifying, in every moment (to use a friend's words)

a

well, the point of this was to mention that art has 

the ability to unite the subconscious 

experience of two or more disparate 

spiritual realms - a reminder that to simply 

be is a universality, though the external 

output of beings varies tremendously 

based on the strength and nature of 

their individual and primary survival impulses.

from: ivan konstantinovich aivazovsky. the ninth wave (1850)

,

andrei tarkovsky.

the mirror (1975)

us

e

i have begun a small courtship with this film... or perhaps by watching it in short segments i have allowed certain scenes (which in this film are the arrangements of color, image, sound mentioned above - loosely organized photographs strung together, or scattered in a pile; a mood, hue, and arc of movement, rather than linear unfolding) to live with me.

as i grow through the days that pass the dark, hidden places become more and more illuminated. my mind treads like a pioneer, respectfully awestruck by raw brilliance, among the landscape of the thing.

there are moments, in the mirror, where my entire physical being is fully engaged -
there is no visible partition,
no frame,
no square,
no screen.

a

,

joshua adam acosta & joe wheeler - differential (2015)

listen

i am an acquaintance of theirs, and i believe the two still continue to make experimental music on both their own and in collaborative projects. this is sound art of the highest caliber.

the quality, i've found, that draws me to specific utterances of art more violently than any other is that of a distant familiarity. if some portion of me feels at home during the drinking in process - recognizes some shape or sound; is led into a room which exudes profound deja vu - it calls to me, like i am the distant descendant of an ancient soul. distant, yet one and the same.

to have that one sting strummed, only so few times in this life, becomes such a precious, beauteous occurrence.

to reach an understanding with one's self;
to give respect to and reconcile with the
being inside all of its powers
to understand,
perceive,
link together memories,
and create meanings which ultimately
benefit the inhabitant

,

'tis all one piece of the puzzle

.

.

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