Category: spirituality

An important milestone, thanks to one & all (Blog Post #500)

Photo by: Sherron Burns

Actually, there are a couple of milestones to mention:

I turned 55 this past week and this happens to be my 500th blog post.

Time to celebrate.

Today I’ve posted a new album on my BandCamp page, over forty minutes of original music, titled Non nobis solum (“Not for ourselves alone”). You can find the new tunes here

If I had to choose one of the new pieces to highlight, it would have to be “Drowning, Not Waving”. Have a listen:

This new batch of music seems more spiritual than spacey, a welcome change of pace.

Besides creating music, I’ve been doing lots of painting, spending part of the summer setting up a mini artist studio in our cold, stone basement. Ensconced in my wee grotto, I daub and smear, accompanied by music and podcasts, working without fear, philosophy or prejudice, just…creating. Making shit up. That’s when I’m happiest.

I employed one of my recent paintings as cover art for Non nobis solum. See what I mean? That’s the kind of weird crap I get up to when I’m left to my own devices.

Thanks to one and all, for hanging out here for the past 10+ years, continuing to support an irascible, uncompromising indie guy with a taste for satire and a propensity for giving offense.

Love your notes and messages, your praise and brickbats.

Keep ’em coming…

 

“Is there anybody…out there?”

A looooong interval between posts.

Well, what do you expect? I’m a working author, with a mind that doesn’t allow for much leisure or fun.

Mainly, I’ve been editing The Algebra of Inequality, my latest collection of poems. It has been an agonizing process, choosing the best poems from the past five years, winnowing out the rest. And sometimes a poem gets the chop not because it lacks tunefulness or thematic unity, but for other, more nebulous reasons. Somehow it just doesn’t quite fit with the rest. It’s a judgement call and often I had second, third and fourth thoughts, so the whole thing became ridiculously drawn out and fraught, dragging on for weeks.

But now it’s done. The interior layout is just about ready and my regular cover guy, Chris Kent, is hard at work on another doozie. I’ll be leaking a sneak peek of said cover in the coming days; it’s based on one of my paintings and, knowing Chris, it’s bound to be eye-grabbing.

Yes, what’s up with the painting, why has it become so important to me? Because when I haven’t been editing, I’ve been regularly making that trip down to my little basement dungeon and attacking canvases with acrylics, a screwdriver, awl, various other implements. Getting physical. The results are odd, distinctive, and the works tend to elicit interesting reactions from the people who see them. But it’s a thrill leaving text behind for awhile and working purely symbolically, utilizing a totally different area of my brain.

Recently, I’ve also completed a large, complex collage piece that may end up as the cover for my short story collection later this year.

One of the poems I lopped from The Algebra of Inequality was one I concocted a number of years ago, titled A Personal Cosmology. It has a strong, visual component. I used some square styrofoam and black paint to create a series of stark, geometric images. Then I employed “automatic writing” and started scribbling, one short prose bit for each of the six images. I think I posted one of these images and accompanying text a few years ago but, for the first time, this is the complete version of Cosmology.

I love this piece, it comes right from the soul, but it just wasn’t right for the collection.

It was one of the final cuts, a hard one to leave out.

Click on this link, scroll through it…enjoy:

A Personal Cosmology

 

God, the concept

SophiaGolgotha

If there is a God, that
Supreme Being would
have to endure every
unkindness, every injury,
the abuse and mistreatment
of innocents, the unspeakable
acts we inflict on each
other, pain and torment from
time immemorial.

God would bleed and die
and scream and whimper
and plead for one more
breath of life, while expert
torturers worked their wiles,
wringing false confessions,
betrayals, a crown of thorns
carefully arranged just prior
to execution.

 

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