It’s been decided.
I’m un-invited to the possibility.
You won’t give chase to the chance that
this could be something worth talking about.
Worth fighting about.
Because it has to be perfect, and smooth, and expected.
That’s where the opportunity over-ripens
and is smooshed beyond usability.
Compost is the option.
Compost you and me.
Written Monday, November 5th, 2012 @ Flowers.
Performed, recorded, and mixed by Odawni AJ Palmer. Original song by Emily and The Woods.
Photograph taken by Odawni AJ Palmer. Copyright 2011.
I have been itching to do some recording. And here something finally is. For the past few weeks I’ve been thickening my fingertip calluses while working on covers of songs by everyone from MJ, to The Cutting Crew, to Porthishead, to Blonde Redhead. I’ve also been trying to get something original out. Like trying to squeeze the last bit of minty freshness out of a toothpaste tube.
All those many hours. And yet. I feel my musical self has been sub-subpar. I’m not entirely pleased with the end-product of this one but being OK with creative endeavors that are, mmm. OK. Is, well. Just fine. It’s all part of the process – indeed.
Must. Keep. Practicing.
This is a cover of a song by William Fitzsimmons, “I Don’t Feel It Anymore”. With Priscilla Ahn. I stumbled upon a remixed version of it on my M83 station on Pandora while studying today. Please excuse the crunchy bass end on this tune. It was wanting to be the life of the party this evening.
I am the valley in your embrace (Mountain love poem).
Striations on its many faces
tell its techtonic tale –
The Himalayan Mountain range.
Though jagged and unforgiving,
they hold me.
Atop the peaks
a caerulean sky;
its azure fingertips
fill the crevasses.
And at every glance
strings and strings of prayer flags
like caterpillar legs
in wind-tickled dance.
Once starched cloth-cut squares:
yellow, red, blue, green.
Now pastelled and parched
by countless days of ferocious sun,
and months of rain;
weathered and tattered
by the years I’ve wept
in reverie of your embrace.
Written Thursday, 10.12.11, in Leh, India.
I’ve been traveling in India for the past week, which is why, dear reader, I haven’t posted a peep in a little while. My apologies for not supplying a heads-up re my webber-tube absence.
At any rate, it has been a ‘word-that-surpasses-amazing’ experience. I cannot say enough about how special and important it is, as a living breathing being, to travel. And to travel abroad.
I had planned to spend this time away to read read read and write write write but, and I am not saddened to say, I haven’t had a chance to do much of either because we’ve been a bit busy exploring and experiencing India. Our visit to Leh inspired me to write a love poem; a companion piece to the desert love poem I wrote during my trip to China last summer.
I don’t have many memories
of staying in one place.
I carry images
of vistas through windows
of moving vehicles,
landscapes, seasons, and faces
sweeping or inching by.
Some places I remember well,
others I don’t.
Some countries I remember,
some I remember through stories my parents tell.
But, through this movement,
I was always with my thoughts.
They could race ahead,
or stir and churn into a paste in my skull,
or breathe through the tip of a pen
These would plug me into sedentary life:
thoughts in the shape of words.
On the Bus – Qarqan to Qarqlik, China.