After reading the songs of Milarepa when he entered his cave above Demon Lake, a famous lake in North India where it is believed an octopus like demon lives. Thing is that the area is amazingly beautiful and the evil from west of there has not yet destroyed the life of this mountain region, where Pakistan cannot earthquakes try, so the Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa continue. Here there were three demons waiting in his meditation and sleeping cave to taunt him and to convince him they were minor angels here to bring him news of God. Milarepa saw the grinning death, as our Southern Blues sees that devil smile grinning into hell, so did he, so he sang them songs to mesmerize them and seduce them into a state of wonder. He was then able to disperse of them, as we should of those around us in whom we see thievery, deception, slothful slinking taking of what is you and these are marks of minor Deceptors. Stare down the shrouds that hide their nature and you will see, and then what? Sing. Charm. Seduce and lead them down into your own “demon lake” and as far away as possible before they suck away every touch of love, peace, in your soul.
Extended. new piano track, drum track. When I finished i realized I had been so sick for a month that all I wanted to do was see a revolution in this land of ours. Toss all government workers elected or not off the payroll and start over with people who pass civics tests, who have studied the humanities, who understand more than two languages, who are not fascists, who see government as for the people, to elect those who READ legislation, find the insurance Paul Ryan types and Paul Ryan and hang him on nearest lynching tree you can find right next to fat empty headed me me me shit for brains Trump. Burn this shithouse down and start again. INSURANCE FOR ALL> and the government workers from the bottom up have the same as we do and they lost it after their terms, no lifetime on our dime. There is a philosophy in this work of music and that is it, and more. And if not, dig the sounds and feel the dawn open up her eye to the world below. Very few souls are left to see.
7 levels Yamaha grand, full string orchestra, crotales, timpani, Bossendorfer grand, French horns and probably a string thing or two whispering its way around the orchestration and bombast. It is a eulogy, nonetheless, this is a eulogy. I hope you feel the consoling measures as well as angry timpani and horns here and there. Maybe feel how she smiled, and then a prayer to be had for her life, her soul, and those she loved.
This has the impression of the last movement of Berlioz, Symphony Fantastique, but it was unintentional. It was fun , the more I thought of Sessions going down for Russia connections and dirty Beauregard deals the more I got into the piano beat halfway in. For a dark march to the gallows pole, I had fun. Hope you do as well.
Thinking about Keith Emerson, the glory, the vibe, the darkness that consumed his brilliance and left such wonder and beauty behind for us all.
Continuation on my imaginings of songs from space, angels melodies whether we agree they are melodic or not, to me they are songs of the soul, of God whispering and shouting, demanding and accepting, beautifully of the body and of spirit, these things these comets that race the universe alone dropping off bits and pieces of matter that in turn become the stuff of birthing planets and dying suns, it sounds like this to me, it always does…and for a birthday I am doing what I love the most, creating, whether it be in music, poetry, food or love, I am happiest feeling that somewhere someone feels the sounds and songs as I do. “as” I do. Love. Peace.
Long meditation on the dying of my thoughts in times so very far away so long ago, it’s hard to describe hard to understand so it is just music, a heavily worked out effort a time that almost destroyed me, and in a way I feel it falling back upon me, pushing me outwards from here into a dreadful, mysterious, place where even ghosts ignore, the fear behind a spiritual crisis so strong and ignoble I don’t know how to talk about except in a wordless, placeless, timeless beyond
It starts out harsh and dissonant, and as each movement swells into presence it becomes more melodic and warm, until the end where it bounces back and forth as if indecisive and confused, which is the nature of human kind, the subject of this work, until it reaches a point of coherence and affection, of love and the need to be felt, to be held and just to hear the words “I Love You”. That is what this symphony in 3 parts is about, is what it is which is why the comparison to planetary distance. It is as if the world today has become a place of dissonance and gossip, of slander, of fear, of the inability to simply hug one another and say “It’s cool” rather than to pursue hate and argument. Just say It’s Cool, and move on to what is the heart and soul of us all, individual and as a people. Love. Love. Love.