double loop

 

Dear Darling,

We cantaloupe tonight;  Father's got the ladder!  Your songs for today are a beautiful pair of loops!

Loupe one.

Loop two. 

I could listen to these two songs until my cells divided to their rhythm!

Flower

Dear One Who Seeks Blossoms,

Here is your song for today, A Flower is Not a Flower, by Ryuichi Sakamoto; whose name, I am told, means 'one who lives at the bottom of the slope.'

Birds

 

Dear Attentive, Careful, Sympathetic Listener,

Several years ago I heard this wonderful piece of music performed live; it is your song for this first day of Spring!  I have been saving it to give to you, but I was little reluctant to expose my ignorance.  You see, if I am giving you Birds in Warped Time II, shouldn't I also offer you Birds in Warped Time I?  Well, I cannot seem to solve the mystery of where, or even if, it exists.  

One thing I did find is a review of this particular rendering of the music that I totally disagreed with- in fact, I think it was total rubbish, and I won't even validate it by putting it here!  It had some swell music terms in it though:  portamenti, cantilena.

I also found, in looking for the possibly missing birds part one, this awesome radio station internet treat!  NTS Live.

Plastic fantastic.

 

Dear Ones,

Meet a man who will make you love plastic, and that ain't no small feat!  I hope you are also inspired to make or invent something; I am!  

The Gloaming.

Dear St. Patrick,

I send you this song for your day!

out of the blue & tumbling from the clouds

Dear Wordy Rappinghood,

I have been dying to give you a little suite of words- phrases, actually.  I tell you, you could build an entire exhibition of large scale paintings around these charming phrases and their poetic connotations.  You could write a symphony on them, or a novel.  One hundred poems.  A pop song, that would begin with the line "A little bit left of you, I walked out into the night, with 200 bucks, waiting for a blow that would tumble from the clouds."   

Tomber des nues.

Out of the blue.

Wordy Rappinghood

Bonus Tom Tom Club

More posts about poems and phones.

 

Dear Telephoned,

I have been thinking of you, and station wagons, Mr. Pibb soda, drive through hamburger joints, and the radio.  I wonder what these images and memories mean?  They might mean I am old, and they might mean I am nostalgic.  They might also mean that time telescopes in and out every minute of every day.

Here is a poem:

[Sonnet] You jerk you didn't call me up

BY BERNADETTE MAYER

You jerk you didn't call me up

I haven't seen you in so long

You probably have a fucking tan

& besides that instead of making love tonight

You're drinking your parents to the airport

I'm through with you bourgeois boys

All you ever do is go back to ancestral comforts

Only money can get—even Catullus was rich but

Nowadays you guys settle for a couch

By a soporific color cable t.v. set

Instead of any arc of love, no wonder

The G.I. Joe team blows it every other time

Wake up! It's the middle of the night

You can either make love or die at the hands of the Cobra Commander

_________________

To make love, turn to page 121.

To die, turn to page 172.

"[Sonnet] You jerk you didn't call me up" by Bernadette Mayer, from A Bernadette Mayer Reader. Copyright © 1968 by Bernadette Mayer. Used by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.

And here is a song that goes with it.

And here is another.

That's all!