Maybe tomorrow

"I'm swinging on the constellations of my vanity
I'm sailing through the machinations of mundanity"

I captured a ball of fading light in my left hand before it faded into a darkness. It took me by surprise and it took me back to a time in the distant past. 

faustain - maybe tomorrow

Youthdom was the energy that sparked curiosity that eventually lit the fuse to many an incendiary incident, but more acutely, to the mystery of knowledge. The secret places that have always been there but, so often, have become overlooked or avoided by the masses. The masses; that unequivocal crowd of thoughtless idiots. those mainstreamers: the unexceptional agglomeration of mediocre abilities.  Yes, they. They spurred me. they initiated in me an urge to be not part of their gang.. to be anything but them; anything that distanced myself from them and their disabled thoughts and ideas was the course I ventured....
and so it was and so it continues. the disdain I found then has and still does serve me well. I feel fatigued sometimes, having to tolerate the everyday senselessness of this modern age. Yes, it gets me down/ It drags me into the dark depths sometimes but this is just an unfortunate consequence of being true to the ideal to not capitulate! And I don't overlook the fact that I am a stupid man. I am as idiotic as most/ as pathetic and ignorant of many of the fundamental problems and solutions. I'm only aware of the most subtle of my inadequacies. Oh yes I, am as bad as the rest I must concede. I'm not better or wiser. I just happen to see things in a slightly different light. It is not an advantage. It is a cumbersome thing. it weighs heavy on me, I expect no praise or condolences. I gave up on expectations long ago. I simply accept the status. Acceptance with reluctance and often a vitriolic internal scream. I am hindered, I am suffused with antipathy.

I once met Bo Diddly. His big hand shook my small youthful 17 year old hand.. "How you doin' man?" he asked in his big deep southern drawl. "The Originator".  had his Gretsch G6138 right next to him, about to take the stage at Henry Africas, York Street, Glasgow, March 1983. I've never met a famous person since that day!

And how it might just be that nothing really matters...
  faustain.maybe tomorrow mp3

Grace and Beauty

And I shall drive my chariot
Down your streets and cry
Hey, it's me, I'm dynamite
And I don't know why

 
Always trying to get somewhere. Always the next step, the progression is slow yet, in the end, you are there .
On the the African Savannah where the giraffes wander free, tall and odd, standing out on the wide flat landscape. But here, further up, further north, the giraffe takes on a rather different role...
It was always an ambition to witness those odd, leggy beasts in there own environment. How strange an animal they seem to me. And here I am in a mountainous place where the original giraffe, the lesser known but more incredible mountain giraffe, wanders hidden in their rocky precipitous vanguard.
Much darker in colour; a near black and mid gray, and their monstrous size, a marvel.
Visible only in certain light from particular angles the laconic wonderbeasts merge into their mountainous home like a stick insect on a stick. Occasionally, when from a distance they break the horizon, their great heads and necks can be witnessed fleetingly, their incredible camouflage rendering their bodies all but invisible.
Yes, up there above me I gaze expectantly in the hope of a glimpse. My sleep is disturbed by the wondrous possibilities. I stay in bed late, in the hope of even a dream vision of the fantastic mountain beasts.

And on we go. to the sea. to the hippy enclave hangout. the young travellers in their dopey glory. Fifty years after the fact and still they wander in their hazey dream world.

Blank Blank. the world is blank. it's empty of all obvious signs of life and the lights are going out. the warmth is dissipating. The good days are gone - and the bad, they are gone. We are left with days. just days. cold cruel empty days where only night divides the monotony and that too, soon becomes part and parcel of the time march to... to nowhere. to an end. infinity is now and yesterday. Forever has gone, and in it's place is dried out crumbs of a bitter tasting past.  It's a good day to walk along a river bank with sun pouring over the flowing cool water. Fish become birds with birds taking to the water. Fish nest high and I think I want to die..      the trees;    unconcerned.

The story goes the story goes,
attention

Blank blank faustain sound file mp3
blank blank faustainsound file2 mp3

Here You Go...

THAT RIBBON CRACKS LIKE THIS ONE AND

THIS ONE CRACKS LIKE THOSE OVER THERE AND

THOSE OVER THERE CRACK

LIKE THESE TWO

BRINGING THOSE STRUTTERS

BRINGING THOSE STRUTTERS

oh, the years keep on crashing, the time shoots past like bullets from a gun. A gun that is pointing at me, a black painted gun with a rifled barrel to send me spinning.
oh here we go in a spin and gazing back at a year where nothing happened where nothing progressed and nothing even mattered. A year of zero significance, a year that has come and gone without a reason, without even an excuse.

And with the sound of thunder and the smell of phosphor we march on into yet another year of unknown instances and outcomes.

. we consume and we hoard and we destroy more and more. we keep ourselves separate from reality. the truth hurts. denial is almost painless. ignorance triumphs. let's all hail ignorance it's our greatest extravagance!
- ----
...
these moments come occasionally. lesser events take place with lesser consequences-
I´m not going on. I'm not continuing. the things we can have and can't have are all just there for us to sort and file and recall if the need arises.  this talk ..
Lacked even the urge, in the first place. The primary relevant emotion is there. Oh yes. And it has power and sway. But, the basics.
 I find I let myself go, That explosion I hear is my loving friend. That cataclysm I witness is my dearest friend. The catastrophe on the horizon, teasing, is my best and closest friend

There is nothing, there never was a thing. the time taken to render a cosmos was lost in an instant and now there is what we had in the beginning. We may talk we may think and behave in a manner we deem appropriate, but it is nothing. it is nothing.

And that's that...
for a'that

You're a little fishy

The way to go is the way of the damned. There are grains of rice in wee piles with about 6 or 8 grains in each. We can make a party of less than never before yet land on the right track without using the breaking system. We don't have all the answers and we always wish we knew more than we actually do. A human thing that never let's go and never finds peace.

You can make that bubble burst if you have a big pin. Or a spear,, or a clear mind that's fair and kind.

Super CALI fraternistic....

I wanna find me a woman who’ll hold my big toe till I have to go

I wanna find a blue swirl plastic ocarina

About five miles long

And play with them sweet potatoes all night long

’cause them yams have all them eyes that yawn

‘yearn down yonder below the ground

‘n their golden hair is ah dirty brown

I wanna find me a woman that’ll hold my big toe till I go

I wanna hold me a woman that’ll find my big toe

Till I have to go

‘n sow my last sweet potato.

this is the new.. the ultimate brand new and the next best.

The changes have begun.. No, wait a minute, the changes have never stopped happening but the velocity has increased. The implementation of change. The fundamentals. the basic. the obvious.

Here we are at the middle of the month, a month, any month. big or wee. The last thing on my list is to finish.. And the last thing on the timetable is to escape.. I'm always attempting that part. Always it's on my mind.

This place is hot.. it's not damp but humid,, which is just hot damp. It's better. that's for sure. I prefer it to freeeezzzing. There are dangers too. it´s a big city. There are always dangers. Ok, Cali has a reputation, but it's not as bad as the statistics make it seem. Just because there are bodies strewn on the streets in the morning and the blood sticks to your feet and makes that sticky clicky sound... The bin men clean it up before the rush hour and you can walk without tripping over bits of death!!!

And bad news filters in, even to here, in the heat in the sun. Even the comforts of the tropical can be dampened when trouble befalls friends. Ach, there's no escaping the bad shit, it travels more than I do and drags even the noblest of creatures down to a lower level.

I've had PC problems. in fact I've had a lot more than PC problems. but I've also had PC problems and that has stopped me from adding music to this place. It's caused creative absenteeism, it's saved the world from further suffering. It's a blessing really. And you should think yourselves fortunate to be free of my sad emotional flailings.

I am, however,  going to give you a wee bit of sound, from a while ago. just to keep you in an unstable sort of existance. a shaky affair..

waiting is not waiting

It's not that everything revolves around sound. But it plays a major roll. It divides the days and creates reference points. It's not always good stuff! I like a lot of rubbish. The rubbish is sometimes better than the better stuff. I think so. Sound is sound. it's not competance it's not skill or knowledge. It could be some clicks or clacks. It can be the sound of a snail moving on a sheet of glass or an inflated rubber glove and amplified and amplified. Or the oooooo oooooing sound of eider ducks on a foggy coast in the rain, just out of site but sonically present.. So, it's best  not to be guns and fucking roses or bonjon bovine or whatever he or they are! and if it is, you can be sure it will be complete shite. And then, if it's faustain it will be,.. well, not all that good but a lot better than much of that stuff.

Leary Bleeder, Vicious British Boyfriend, Barbarous English Fayre, Gone All Weirdo,  Fanciable Headcase, Venerate Me Utterly,-------  some King of the Slums titles; ( kinda, The Raincoats with some northern slang, guts and guys).--- wait. I think maybe The Raincoats had more guts, anyway.  I was thinking of the time when some of  those bands from late eighties early nineties-- the Manchester scene - the indie stuff. And does anyone, anyone, remember Dub Sex, that guys voice was harsh.. great.  There were a wheen of bands I enjoyed back in those days --  New Fast Automatic Daffodils, , .  I would  go to see bands more than once a week back then, All the places- Rooftops, Daddy Warbucks, the Venue, Fury Murry's, Barrowlands, and a load of other places I no longer remember the names of.

It isn't important now. Then it was, and I enjoyed the scene back then. Music music music. And what has that to do with anything nowadays. Well, I was just thinking about it. the days back then. The nights, the lifestyle. Now it's different. that's obvious, that's natural. Now it's South America mostly. Colombia mostly. Working. taking charge. being good. sorting out the post apocalyptic stramash that was my recent experience in the cold dark Scottish winter. What a place that is, during December and January... oh maaan, it´s a scary place. The cold, the damp, the dark, the rain and snow. Ohhhhh.. That's not comfort. That's not luxurious.

Oh yeah.. I listened to a good thing last week. I always do.. but last week I was playing for the first time in ages- The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy---  They were good.. Television- the drug of a nation.... Amos and Andy,, and, Music and Politics--

...And I’d tell you that I’m suffering
from the worst type of loneliness
The loneliness of being misunderstood,
or more poignantly
the loneliness of being afraid
to allow myself to be understood

If ever I would stop thinking about music and politics
I would tell you that the personal revolution
is far more difficult
and is the first step in any revolution

If ever I would stop thinking about music and politics...
I would tell you that music is the expression of emotion
And that politics is merely the decoy of perception.

If you're not familiar with them I'd advise a listen. HipHop at it's best. From the early days.

And here I end my particular sort of rant. Leaving you with some thoughts to think about, or not, as you please... 

The sun always rises.. the night becomes the day, and light is dispensed. 

Keep your cards close to your chest and don't give too much away. It can be costly....

Be aware.

          be gracious 

                         love....  

  ..ed

The firmament is breaking...

Born to refuse, and raised to exclude 
Fed myths to disprove by post-colonial prudes:
The city was evil, some country was evil, the hippies were evil,
the writers were evil, the homeless were evil, the workers were evil,
the summer was evil, independence was evil.
Grown and released with the heart of a thief 
Wanting only to seek the very gentlest of streets where 
nobody's evil, nobody's evil....

 Another traumatic example of fear, confusion and loss.
Y'see these things, although based on recent events and the dark spaces in which my mind often dwells, are often inspired by a terrible nightmare dream I had repeatedly from about the age of six. It's not difficult to explain, it is a vision of destruction death and the end of the world.  Many many years later I discovered, a similar vision put to canvas by 19C artist John Martin.

The Great Day of His Wrath. 

Also, WB Yeats The Second Coming--.the ominous destruction and mysterious dark foreboding.

I recall also, Something -- that is first of all - a crumb -- a rock -- a mountain -- a planet -- a sun --  a universe, each being crushed by the next until all is metaphysical anarchy, the  feeling inside corresponds and is sickening... it torments the nerve endings.

everything falls (download)

I never finished the vocal of this piece and it sounds a bit dodgy, clipped and overly compressed.. the whole thing needs worked on but I am in a hurry all of a sudden, it sometimes happens. I need to do some worrying, fretting and trepidating. And that takes up a lot of time. forever changes...

You are also now able to visit me and listen or download at Bandcamp.

All this to-ing and fro-ing. It gets me confused and I need to step back a wee bit to get a better view. To help me, to try and get a better perspective, but the reality is lacking clarity, the unreal internalised view is what I see and that's just a blurred make-believe concept bearing little relation to even basic understanding. Just sitting is likely the best option. I'l just sit for some time and let it all happen. Trepidation eh! it comes without being called upon. just pushes it's way through. and before you know--~@#''# trepidating 

And also the passing of time has taken on a new soft beauty like in an aerial film sequence swooping gently over land, hill, and glen. A free as a bird quality, an eagle... or, graceful like a pelican low over water, never stalling.

something will always come along in the dark or in the light. Something less useful than first anticipated, it's a world of illusion and broken promises, lost causes, it's a world where I still hear people say things like --   life is wonderful  --  .. I don't shake them, or, even look them in the eye. I try to be good. I do. I really fucking do..

LOve and kisses

  ..ed

Further notes:

I can't control certain feelings of the heart, of love and of loss. I can't control, yet they seem to be able to take complete control of me without even the slightest concern for the damage/devastation being unleashed in my soul my body - my ability to carry on. 

 I find myself question the reasons for existence, Not for the first time, it must be said, but certainly the most intense occasion of self doubt and incapacity to understand the most basic fundamental laws of human nature. These things it seems, are not for me to comprehend. To let them be is as far as I can go. To sit, and observe - or not even to do that at times, with eyes closed but heart open I just sit and let it flow. However, sometimes a tangle appears and upsets the system, and this time, the system wrought devastation on me. The very firmament came down in broken flaming pieces. The anger and almost uncontrollable urge to partake in the overall destruction of all that has gone before or would come to exist..  hence I urge you.. please  please  do not... come. with. ME.

Ye cannae beat a boiled egg

One day this love will all blow over
Time for leaving the parade
Is there a place in this city
A place to always feel this way
And hey, there's a red car in the fountain

O
I don't have a new song to share so I will let you decide if you fancy downloading one from a year and a bit ago. It's not folk music, as you will already know if you listened to any of my other stuff. THis isn't quite so painful. Just a spraff. "y'know nuthin'"

to the wise... there. are. none. Not from me.. . I believe in keeping that stuff to myself.

But, for all of you--- ALL of you, a very happy and fulfilling new year
And silky kisses all over
xxx