Month: March 2015

#DaCaLuF 165: Night Sky Passage

Encore un beau paso entre le Chili et l’Argentine …
“Another beautiful passage between Chile and Argentina …”
Musique: “night sky dead letter office [disquiet0065]” par Westy Reflector

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The Bellais family from France (DAvid, CAmille, LUcile et Félix) is traveling around the world in a converted old fire truck for two years. They’ve used a few of my tracks in their video episodes, and it’s an absolute kick to follow along and hear my songs pop up every so often. Follow them here:

http://dacaluf.com
https://vimeo.com/channels/dacaluf
https://www.facebook.com/dacaluf

[dream journal] suppression / oppression

written upon waking

DREAM #1

30 or 40 years into the future. I am a cub reporter for a large newspaper, maybe the NYTimes or The Guardian, walking into a darkened overfilled, high-floor conference hall to await an announcement by the mayor. Entrance to the hall is a spiral ramp with no railings suspended over the commercial floor below. I have two older colleagues with me and we are met by a huge security goon and forced to sit in the last row of seats with him. We see more goons approaching from the spiral into the hall. They are all headed for us.

The head goon turns to us and says “If you publish your findings, we will take your Section Six Clearance badge,” then turns to me and says “since you’re the cause of all this, we’ll just take yours now.”

“He doesn’t have it here. It’s downstairs,” says one of my colleagues, a gruff Jimmy Breslin type in a porkpie hat. “Leave him alone.”

I am grabbed by the approaching goon and held in place. Tears start to well onto my lower eyelids. “What has be country become?” I ask. “Where has my country gone?”


DREAM #2

At the New Jersey house in which I grew up, also in the future – maybe 15 years. It’s on ~5 acres of wooded property; not a lot of views of neighbors. Moonlight filtering through the trees. Rumbles from outside keep interrupting dinner preparation w/ my parents & my wife. I am waiting on friends to show up to join us.…

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#DaCaLuF 159: Entomology Windfall

Des belles lagunes et des petits insectes chiliens…
Beautiful lagoons and small Chilean insects.
Musique: Windfall par Westy Reflector (westyreflector.net)

http://dacaluf.com/saison-1-episode-159-oh-une-petite-araignee/

Petite rando au Chili pour admirer les beaux panoramas de la région. Il faut tout de même penser à baisser les yeux pour ne pas écraser les bébêtes qui se promènent sur le sentier.
Small hike in Chile to enjoy the views of the region. Still, think to look down to avoid crushing the critters that walk on the trail.

——————————-
The Bellais family from France (DAvid, CAmille, LUcile et Félix) is traveling around the world in a converted old fire truck for two years. They’ve used a few of my tracks in their video episodes, and it’s an absolute kick to follow along and hear my songs pop up every so often. Follow them here:

http://dacaluf.com
https://vimeo.com/channels/dacaluf
https://www.facebook.com/dacaluf

Pied dedans, plein les yeux et le vent dans le dos!

writing seeing

writing without photographs,
evolution’s parallel selection
to writing with
photographic memories,
:
the dotted lines between
:
imagination,
the sole (soul) hideout
halfway safe house
for
picturing
without pictures
:
// the fear of writing before seeing
// the legacy of our age
:
System.NullException
at “RECALL.[EVENT]”:
Function Memory() expects parameter
‘Pictures.External’ which was not supplied

[dream journal] two four one

written upon waking

on a jumbo jet plane that lands in a vacant lot
“where are we?” i ask the girl next to me
“looks like we’ve landed in burundi,” she says.
puts her hand on my arm
“better gather your stuff”
exit the plane and everyone starts running as if trying to escape from something.
flight attendant calls out
“the passport office is across the street!”
i grab all my bags (three – two shoulder-mounted carry ons and a small suitcase w/ no wheels), run to the other end of the dusty vacant lot and enter a colonial house.
a woman rushes into the kitchen
“the passport office?” i ask, reaching into my carry-on bag to produce my passport.
“across the street,” she says. “Two One Four Seventh Avenue. This is Two Four One. Everyone gets confused.”
“Oh,” I say.
Leave the house. Get out to the street. Looking at the numbers as i walk .


Then, smash-cut to a restaurant with my family.
taking off my winter coat, i turn from the table for a second as I place my hat, gloves and scarf into the coat’s sleeve. i turn back to hang it on my chair and someone has taken my seat.
from behind, i recognize this person as a former neighbor who couldn’t stand me (the feeling was almost mutual, though i took the high road). he is now jammed in and making friendly conversation with my mother and brother.
“don’t worry,” says my father. “things are bound to change.”…

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