The 45 Incubus & the Spa Channel

Finding myself in a rinse * repeat quotidian cycle of the 45 incubus sucking the life out of a sleeping America, I change the channel away from the noise to the

Spa-ah-ah-ah Channel

Uh, yeah. I’m not embarrassed to claim it. There is nothing else that takes me away in a sonic Calgon Bath other than this Channel 68. It wipes away the scum of anger and outrage over the scurrilous performance of a sitting President, his family, his cabinet, and the entire Republican party. In a push of a button, I have entered Middle Earth where the loving power of the fairest Elf, Galadriel, hovers above and in front of me backlit by the engulfing warmth of radiant light.

Nope, I haven’t smoked nor ingested anything to convert my demeanor other than the CHANNEL on my RADIO.  Today’s morning programming description: Greet the sun with relaxing and soothing sounds, the best in new age and ambient music from around the world. You’ll hear Enya, Will Ackerman and more. 

Is it tuning out? Indeed! And it’s more than that because it allows me to TUNE IN and re-center myself. Did I ever think I would be this person? It’s one thing to step into a spa treatment for an hour or more to immerse yourself into another world which includes hearing this music to drown out the daily chatter, but to live every day listening to it? You bet. It’s the one thing that truly refreshes and washes me clean of the vile news cycle. I need an escape from the unseemly reality of American politics. En route to anywhere, I immediately switch from an angry imp to a caring celestial being with one-push-of-a-button.

I just now switched it on through my computer to my studio monitors and the music of Robert Carty/Sylken in a piece titled “Deep Distance” resonates around my room. Ahhhhh

World Weary              Calgon Bath  Galadriel


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Trump * Putin * Assad * ISIS – Do the Math

AWe have visual confirmation that Trump remains completely friendly to the Kremlin and Putin by this photo (among others) taken by the Russian Press (since the American Press was not allowed into the Oval Office during their meetings).

Trump Kislyak Lavrov.jpeg   Trump Lavrov Kislyak.jpg

We know that Putin backs the heinous Assad regime in Syria.

From 2015, we learn that Assad won’t fight ISIS because he profits from it.

From April 15, 2017, Syria’s Assad is ‘Inextricably Connected’ to Islamic State.

Cut the rhetoric. Cut the bullshit. Cut the pretend games of sending 54 Tomahawk missiles to destroy NOTHING in Syria, not even the Syrian Air Force runway those 54 missiles should have damaged irreparably. Stop making vacant outbursts about your plan to defeat ISIS while you do nothing about it.  STOP PRETENDING to be against ISIS while maintaining your support for Putin and his regime who supports Assad who supports ISIS. Why do Assad, Putin, and therefore you, DJT, actually support ISIS? Because you’re all profiting from both the terror and the terrorism while keeping ISIS fed and armed.

And now this from NY Times: Meet the Connection Between Jared Kushner and Putin


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A Crack in the Universe Where the Pain Comes In

There is a crack in the universe where the pain comes in and keeps my mind in a Krampüs-enraged Mental Holocaust. (Lord have mercy…turn this down before you click the play button on song 2 and more at their bandcamp page…)

Can I get a witness? Do ya feel me? The duplicitous quotidian matter before us numerous times per hour (not even by DAY anymore!) feels like wading though the river Styx en route to a stop off in Neverland to pick up the young ones to swallow them whole because they just might make a great face cream to keep you looking young again. “It’s Palmolive: you’re soaking in it.”

The great American Dream has become UNHINGED and is reeling off the charts of negativism. Anger has enveloped the entire world to the point of too-often suicide bombers who bring death and destruction in horrific small doses while 45 sells billions in armaments to Saudi Arabia. What? Peddling massive weapons one day, touching a holy wall the next, meeting with the Pope the next mumbling, “I won’t forget what you said.” (ostensibly about peace) 

While 45 takes “heed” to the thought of his tiny hand in making peace, a ReTHUGlicon candidate running for Congress from Montana, Greg Gianforte, commits physical abuse in response to a question by a Guardian Reporter.

We are plunging…

Gustave Doré_-_Etching of Styx cc.large

Gustave Doré, 1861


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Human Resources

Anyone who has worked for a public institution or a corporation knows these two words have some important meaning. They represent a department of people whose job it is to ensure that the organization for which they work maintains a propriety among the humans who work there. Duties include assuring that an ample number of working humans are hired for the job with the requisite skills and knowledge as well as keeping those who are employed with the organization in a happy step with the rules and regulations of the entire body corporeal.

What if we look at the two words from the mindset of the people who consider themselves well above this group of souls working together. You know the person(s), the boss, head honcho, supervisor, manager, Vice President, President, Premier, Platypus Rex. Think of the way that these people think of those beneath them–the staff, personnel, workforce, crew, manpower, the working classproletariat…workforce-planning

Now, let’s just ponder the man in charge at the top of the heap of these UnTied States and the man in charge (Majority Leader) of the Senate and the man in charge of the House…think about the words in and of themselves:



Sit with your eyes closed and just wonder what images or thoughts may come to those three men and the political control they have over our nation’s humans and our global resources and how they might think of humans AS resources. What do they do with our earth resources? Squander • Pillage • Rape • Kill • Endanger • Destroy.

OK. Now open your eyes…

humanscommodity • chattel

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America, the ReTHUGlican “precious”

We Are Not OK.jpg

America_ReTHUGlican Precious

Precious.jpeg      Gorsuch Gollum.png

McConnell.png   45 to Mars-a-Lago.jpg

45 cost to Mars.png


I made a little visual report while waiting to get my head examined…

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Going Postal

The signs filled my inbox of life all week, spritzed here and there peppering what was otherwise a lovely and eventful Spring Break week remaining at home to clear, cleanse, and create. I socialized with different friends sharing our fidgets and widgets while enjoying various gaieties like swimming, chatting, sangria-drinking, reading, binge-watching someone’s new favorite show…

The first drip began as a gush of information about the Russian connection with the Whitehouse as myriad journalists tried to make sense of the farce governing our country. Then a blip on my radar about Thucydides and a U.S. – China warning of potential conflict titled “Destined for war? China, America and the Thucydides Trap” in the March 30, 2017 Financial Times by Gideon Rachman.  It took me a minute to remember the analogy as I read the title and decided to click on it. “The phrase, a reference to the ancient Greek historian’s observations about the war between Sparta and Athens in the fifth century BC…”  A couple of days later, I was sorting some papers when I found little piece of black paper I had written on with gold ink back in November, the first weekend after the election. I had pulled out my Political Map of World History to make note of the times when a major conflict came about somewhere in the world. It seems that about every 300 years, a major regime change occurs on at least one continent and it includes a bloody war. The piece of paper I found had the words:  “431 – 404  Peloponnesian War between Sparta and Athens” inscribed upon it.

Hmmm. Interesting that out of all of the historical notes I wrote, this is the one I found.

Another more personal drip came about from a strange dream that included my ex-wife who seemed as though she were still in love with me in the vision of her. I felt the “being taken care of” vibe in my sleep as we walked through a forest together. I’ve been quite pleased with my solo life for these past several years as the alone time allows me all I need to write and do as I please in my daily routine. As I hear the familiar phrase “let me check with my partner/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife first” when planning events, I smile while thanking the stars that I don’t have that particular albatross to impede my decision-making. But the morning I awoke from that dream, I felt a yearning that I lost long ago. I wondered what my life would be like right now if we had made it to year 18 together. After a few hours to allow myself to soak in the melancholy, I popped back into happy solo me and went about my day. A couple of days later, I decided to bask in the sun out back in the yard behind the apartment building I live in. I took down a book and a glass of iced tea to place on the one piece of furniture I have outside — a colorful,  small, round outdoor table. When I stepped out back, I couldn’t find it at first. Then, I noticed the top of the table leaning against the back wall of the patio. I found the base being used to prop up a large potted plant of my neighbor’s in the garden. They must have thought I don’t use it much. It was one of the cherished wedding presents that I had decided to keep from a group of my friends. We split up our gifts according to whose friends/family gave to us. There it was, separated. One part propping up new life, growing in the sun; the colorful circular top cast aside against a wall.

Continuing in the personal realm, I took out my favorite fountain pen and some thick paper to write a letter to my nephew who has been in jail since November 2014. He killed a man. He has yet to go to trial. I keep up with him through writing frequent letters and filling his commissary account every couple of months. He writes me regularly. He’s a good writer. I’m impressed with his grammar, syntax, punctuation, and creative commentary about life behind bars. I have sent him a few books on screenwriting to help him pass the time. I try to inspire him to write about the characters he meets who come and go, and some who stay, like him, with liberty and justice evading them. It’s called pre-trial detention and it can go on for years.

Since I couldn’t sit in the back yard with my tea on my table, I decided to walk to the post office to drop the letter to my nephew while absorbing some Vitamin D from the sun along the way. I had just dropped the letter into the box when a phone call from my brother buzzed in my back pocket…


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Insular Oblivion

Yes, I like it like that. I’m hearing “That’s the Way of the World” in my head from working on a quick mastering of a  live song version recorded by my students yesterday of “Stuffed”, a great band of musicians in the Bay Area/SF. Their saxophonist, guitarist, and keyboardist provide lead lines in lieu of a vocalist, so the song stayed with me this morning as I wafted about my pad on my first day of Spring Break.

Ahhhh, feels good to relax.

Thank you Charles Stepney, Maurice White and Verdine White for a beautiful song. The lyrics resonate with me this day.

I tried a little a capella verse and chorus of my own:

I’m using Pro Tools with the Focusrite Liquid 56 Saffire audio interface set to a couple of interesting mic preamp emulations. My trusty (and favorite) Audio Technica AT4050 provides the transducer of my voice to electrical signal flow and I’ve wrapped it up in a pretty Waves Abbey Road EMI TG12345 plate reverb with the addition of Schoeps Particles on the master bus.

Feelin’ fine.

Hearts of fire creates love desire
Take you high and higher to the world you belong
Hearts of fire creates love desire
High and higher to your place on the throne
We come together on this special day
Sing our message loud and clear
Looking back, we’ve touched on sorrowful days
Future pass, they disappear
You will find peace of mind
If you look way down in your heart and soul
Don’t hesitate ’cause the world seems cold
Stay young at heart, ’cause you’re never, never old
That’s the way of the world
Plant your flower and you grow a pearl
Child is born with a heart of gold
Way of the world makes his heart so cold
Hearts of fire create love desire take you
High and higher to the world you belong
Hearts of fire love desire
High and higher, yeah yeah yeah
Hearts of
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