- cipher e/ dreams (2017)
- Almost X (2016)
- Sunrise Highway (2015)
- Particle Theory (2014)
- transient lines (2013)
- still echoes (2013)
- Reflected: 10×10 (2002-2012)
- :^D (2011)
- Hola, Sayulita! (2010)
- Goodbye Monday Blue (2009)
- Goodbye Monday #Bsides (2009)
- Stay Home v. The Love Shoppings (2007)
- Windfall (2004)
[twitter] latestMy Tweets
- [img] cherry, mon cheri / photo: @lwestreich
- [img] dreamer: 34000 ft / @catmthomas
- [dispatch] I DEMAND 09152017.1430
- [img] This zone where waves give up their energy… is the surf. It is the most exciting part of the ocean. / Willard Bascom, Oceanographer
- 2017_09 Southampton 24hrs
- 2009_09 Southampton Surfers
- [dispatch] 20170905.1749
- [a few words on] Steely Dan
- [img] see through ads, and you find they all use the same mirror
- [dream journal] Drones For Leanne: A Recurring Nightmare
- [img] city sunset study 083117.1912
- [aired] Destination Bulgaria
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— ../westy (@westyreflector) September 15, 2017
September 15, 2017 at 04:30PM
[img] This zone where waves give up their energy… is the surf. It is the most exciting part of the ocean. / Willard Bascom, Oceanographer
This zone where waves give up their energy… is the surf. It is the most exciting part of the ocean. / Willard Bascom, Oceanographer
September 11, 2017 at 04:40PM
via Flickr http://ift.tt/2eRDfMp
Coopers Beach / Halsey Neck Beach
via Flickr http://ift.tt/2xg5bUG
via Flickr http://ift.tt/2xg5bUG
— ../westy (@westyreflector) September 5, 2017
September 05, 2017 at 05:49PM
With the passing of Walter Becker, let’s resurrect a piece of mine on Steely Dan, for whom I had conflicting feelings but also heavy sentimental attachment, their inescapable songs stamped on many pivotal moments through my halcyon teenage daydream years. I didn’t choose to write about them – the piece was an assignment.
Back in 2013, I jumped into in a meme game, on a whim, against character and habit. That it was a Facebook meme made it even rarer for me, since I spend maybe 5 minutes a month in eff-space (another post for the future, perhaps). Courtesy of Scott Faulkner (http://www.vinylsaurus.com), the game was if you “liked” Scott’s Facebook post, he assigned you a band/act and you would write on them in the same format. The assignments would then cascade through every generation of likes. Marc Weidenbaum (https://disquiet.com) liked Scott’s post and was assigned The Residents. I, in turn, liked Marc’s post about The Residents, so he assigned me… drum roll… Steely Dan.
see through ads, and you find they all use the same mirror
September 01, 2017 at 03:56PM
It’s 2061. Shunted off in the corner of the rec room at Elysian City: A Home For The Aged, I spend my days staring out a 2nd-story window at a leafy City neighborhood in a vain attempt to cancel out my immediate surroundings. I am 90 years old. My money is gone, my companionship is long over, I have no savings. The government will not approve me for a phone or any sort of connection to the Internet (by that time, access to the virtual world is age restricted for over-85s the same as drivers licenses). I don’t have a guitar. All my instruments and vinyl collection were sold to pay for a hybrid pig heart I needed when I was 83. Elysian also forbids personal music playback devices and headphones, so I can’t seek comfort in the albums I released decades ago in my highwire days.
The other patients create an absurd, inescapable, Cuckoo’s Nest din. I am there because I lost my money, but most are there because they lost their minds. Phillip, a former tenured NYU Comparative Literature professor, screams all day, every day in the same seat, about Donald Trump’s “Kalashnikov eyes” the “god damned Pension Police in the walls!” Every time he tries to eat, he hallucinates himself into the same Thanksgiving dinner simulation where he’s arguing with his brother Mitch about the 2016 election. By the end of every exchange (of which we only get his side), Phillip will slam his plate up and down, sending most of his meal in all directions.
Phillip eats only mac ‘n cheese, and his mad gyrations fly an inevitable noodle or two across a couple tables to smack me in the face or splat on my window. Shriveled, stray elbow noodles are strewn around the room, caught in gaps between the home’s original Kentile floor tiles and wall mouldings, and also underneath an IKEA credenza that holds a Monopoly game without a full set of money and a few well-worn mid-2010s issues of InStyle Magazine. Too-on-the-clock-to-care orderlies don’t cajole their vacuums and mops to reach any of the crevices, so the noodles just accumulate unnoticed like ear canal hair.
The psych wardlords play Gen-X music to try to salve everybody with what they call “youthmmersion therapy,” and most of the time it works. But whenever the Thompson Twins’s “Doctor Doctor” comes on the loudspeaker, 80-going-on-15 Leanne teases her wiry blurry hair up high, and apes Alanna Currie playing timpani drums. Leanne bangs on the table with her Jello spoons every time the chorus revs up, and then screams along (“Doctor Doctor! I’m burning burning!”). Her just-off-key caterwauls always bring two of the floating control drones that patrol the corridors and administer most of the medication. They will grab Leanne by our shoulder-mounted mandatory drone-connector epaulettes. The drones will then hoist Leanne towards the ceiling, where she will float and sing in a seemingly gravity-less performance around the room until she is floated out into the corridor back to her room. If I’m lucky, the drones for Leanne will arrive as Phillip crescendos his one-way dinner fight, and they will catch his noodles mid-flight in elegant ICBM intercept maneuvers.
I turn back to my window, hoping to find solace in the people walking below, living some semblance of real life. Every once in a while I see someone not wearing their virtual shield, maybe walking a dog or taking their kid to school, and paying attention to the environment. No one ever looks up, and for that I’m grateful.
Motorcycle ride through a Bulgarian countryside set to my songs Since I Heard The Sun and Infinite Destination. Always awesome to see asphalt and trees whipping through the frame as these tracks play.
Published on Aug 31, 2017
Bogdan – Honda Africa Twin CRF1000
Cosmin – Honda Africa Twin CRF1000
Deso – Yamaha Super Tenere 1200
Beklemeto Pass, Arch of Freedom,
Shipka Pass, Buzludzha Monument
Shipka Pass, Shipka Memorial
Anger breaks your wing, not the object of your anger.
— ../westy (@westyreflector) August 28, 2017
August 28, 2017 at 01:47PM
This is the fourth track I’ve recorded in honor of Bassel Khartabil Safadi, a pioneering and beloved Syrian open-source programmer who gave his life to ensuring an open web, teaching others about technology, and contributing his experience freely to help the world. Syrian military police arrested him in 2012 for unstated crimes, and held him without trial. In August of 2017, the world learned he had been executed in October 2015. To this date, his body has not been given to his family for proper mourning and burial, and the manner in which he was put to death remains a mystery.
In the end, pessimism breaks people quicker, and with more permanence, than fear. The greatest weapon used against free-thought warriors such as Bassel is not to make them scared – it’s to make them feel alone in their fight, discouraged and ashamed.
Apologize for nothing, Bassel.
All sounds either Bassel or guitar.
Underlying bed is reversed “Amazing Grace” mixed with three tracks of Bassel’s phrase ~13x stretched: One track is him harmonized and pitched down to F#; One is him disambiguated as noise; One is him just straight up sloooowed doowwwn.
Floated over the affair with an eBow.
This track marks my 69th Disquiet Junto contribution.
My studio suffered an irreparable crash last week while attempting the first of these two most recent #freebassel projects. Kind creative forces graced me, however, with a few workarounds and a long-overdue seat kick into a more current-era workflow. I hold onto the thought that all my tech disruption (forced unwinding and time-zero reconfiguration of twenty+ years of habits) would make Bassel, well, just laugh. I hope that laughing’s all he’s doing now.
Over the course of Bassel’s incarceration, the Disquiet Junto dedicated a number of its weekly projects to the #FreeBassel movement in the hopes of keeping his story – and possibly Bassel himself – alive. I produced a couple tracks that made it into their respective Junto weeks:
One other project I attempted stalled in the concept phase, but instead of letting it languish, I fleshed it out on my latest record into a Dylan-esque acerbic romp through a world refusing to change:
This week’s track, though, was the first of these for Bassel I recorded knowing he will never hear it. Killed the urgency and upped the poignancy, I guess. Wish I was less numb about all this.
Guitar: Peekamoose Custom Workhorse M2
Pedalboard: SmallSound/BigSound Sparkle Motion -> SS/BS Mini F*ck -> tc electronic Flashback Delay -> EHX Superego (Send/Receive: EQD Arpanoid -> EHX POG2 -> Diamond Tremolo) -> EHX Freeze -> EQD Grand Orbiter -> EQD Afterneath -> Strymon blueSky Reverb -> Pigtronix Infinity Looper
Amp: Fender SuperChamp X2 (set to vintage Princeton Reverb voice)
MOTU 828mk2 -> MacBook Pro
Windows PC (DIY)
Paulstretch (standalone, Windows 10)
Harrison Mixbus 4 (DAW and mastering)
Disquiet Junto Project 0294: Offline Status
Pay tribute to the late Bassel Khartabil by turning his spoken words into music.
More on this 294th weekly Disquiet Junto project — Offline Status: Pay tribute to the late Bassel Khartabil by turning his spoken words into music. — at:
Thanks to Niki Korth, Jon Phillips, and Barry Threw for encouraging this project. More on Bassel here:
More on the Disquiet Junto at:
Subscribe to project announcements here:
Project discussion takes place on llllllll.co:
There’s also on a Junto Slack. Send your email address to twitter.com/disquiet for Slack inclusion.
via Keely Elle YouTube:
Published on Aug 22, 2017
Hey everyone, thanks for watching this video!
Rode out the eclipse in Green-Wood Cemetery, shielded from zombies by Minerva, goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare.
August 21, 2017 at 05:02PM
Knowing the exact path and time of an eclipse is a cosmic spoiler. Where have all the Stonehenge gone?
— ../westy (@westyreflector) August 21, 2017
August 21, 2017 at 08:23AM