~ Any luck finding that meanie yet?? Peeps who beat their dogs should get beaten themselves (not a violent person, just feel they should taste their own ‘medicine’)
Thank you for sticking up for the puppy, mama… We need more kind folks like YOU in the world… :medal
My little neighborhood has some rental houses run by property managers, so there is no concern about who gets the key. Over the years, we have had a variety of folks that see this as an escape to the country, which holds an appeal to me as well, but we have had neighbors that get a horse and can’t afford to feed it, get baby chicks that feed the hawks and coyotes and raccoons,( and they take forever to be convinced to leave after they have eaten all the freebies in the neighborhood), and recently a guy had three pit bulls that he kept fenced in, but they could dig under the fence. He said he had them for protection for his family. They would wag their tails when they came over, but the sense of menace of three dogs, like a pack, was a bit much. I took them back home and the owner got angry when I asked him to keep them at his place. It felt like a disaster waiting to happen. There is something about the illusion of freedom that gives some people a sense that they have no rule nor responsibility to control their actions, or feed their animals. When a person’s response to a request to change their behavior toward their animals is anger, it is helpful to consider that they live in a fantasy (not a good fantasy) that seems to indicate something is not right with them. Good luck Landshark, may your actions bear good fruit.
My dog likes to bark at the horses when they get too close to “his” fence. My geese just make noise
I heard hail through the stove vent, and earlier, I could hear the compressors at the grocery stove. I can also hear hear a “ringing”, hissing, clanging, beating, or some other way of describing the constant sound that is not sound.
tinnitus. Someone wrote that there will be 70,000 vets returning from war with this problem, and there is little chance of knowing how many of you hear sound all the time, or when you think of it, or after something loud, constant, or of some certain pitch, tone or timbre. Some of us barely have it, and others are overwhelmed. Mine is halfway, constant on one side, so, I am always aware of it. It is the oddest sound I can think of, because it is not a sound. it is :eek.
I happen to think that Telluride bluegrass Festival is an event that can heal the soul, to what extent, I don’t know, but I love walking the great mandala, I have looked down on it from up on the mountainside,walking up that road,the road behind you when you watch the stage, the cliff that I watched Xavier Rudd play with the echo with himself, with percussion. i saw a bunch of Africans play on a stage in 1987, with drums., and I listened to the echo, think about when the town could hear the sound of dynamite echoing down the mountains. I remember Telluride fourth of July, with firemen water fighting the Silverton or the Ouray firefighters with water hoses and fireworks at night and eating at the buffet at the Sheridan Hotel.
I lived downstream on the San Miguel, where you didn’t eat the fish. Maybe if we camped at trout lake, and caught more than one fish from the shore, and we ate them, I would still taste that trout. i heard and saw a rock slide up along one of the peaks. I actually had been thinking of climbing up in that area, while my brother and father fished. My father rode the Galloping Goose, can you say that? If you don’t know what that is, walk up main street, both sides, and look for history. This is the story, not only of mountains and music, but of the place and the time where the music climbed, out of the ore and the rocks and the dust, reading Pychon’s “Against the Day”, and seeing it all can be different, I might be right, creating a history that doesn’t exist, in this world…I was thnking that many of you have met me, as I met so many others, passing through Telluride; On Their Way, as we all go…,life is truly fleeting, and if we don’t have a clue, i imagine, we miss the best parts.
I like to believe that Telluride is magical. If it is, then you have a wonderful time, and you are given strength to visit the next demon in your path. If it isn’t, then grant us old, odd, Festivarians our fantasy of being in the right place at the right time, with the music to guide us, inside us, and all around, beside us, find a friend, listen in, and let it guide us.
It is fun to play with words, but its more fun to feel that spirit over all these years, New Grass Revival, John Hartford, Doc Watson, Bill Monroe, Ralph Stanley, Oh Brother, Where art Thou, and Peter, Sam, Bela, John, YMSB, Special Guests, Emmylou, and all you Ladies, I don’t mean to ignore you all, bands, and names. faces on stage, songs and scenes and screams for more…, what more can I ask, over the years…We were married on the Solstice in New Mexico, not knowing the first year of Telluride happened the same time, so we have shared many of our anniversaries, together.
it is late at night, but you are probably reading this because you have little to do at this moment, and it might be daylight, or dark, but…
Like climbing out of many holes, you see the light before you reach the top, and what you see determines what you think it is. this is like a hologram, mixed in time and space…, if you don’t understand read Quantum Physics, dimensions, and Lao Tsu…
If this is not an odd sound, then you haven’t been listening, begin again…Bouzouki
Nicely strung words there bouzouki. Thanks for sharing. :cheers
thanks :cheers
I have been listening to David Byrne, elvis costello and sugarcane, Bob Dylan, the Dead, and other assorted cds. Music is my saving grace, to steal a title from Steve Miller. Music has saved me from myself for decades, and for that, I wonder how many of us have something that guides us. Art and creativity feed me, music, writing, gardening, all these skills that I can’t bring myself to sell. My music means more to me than money, poetry means much to me, and my limited skills with paint are mine alone. Cooking and gardening are well within these realms of arts as well. Whatever your art, it is your need to practice that art that sustains life, just like practicing living, which is what we do every day. the odd sound is the way we perceive this art, and the way we dance to it. I celebrate the odd sound, and if I can create my own experience in the next two weeks, perhaps I will share that, if it is odd enough
I have listened to the sound of a nail gun and electric saw for two months. Enough! I can hear a gun range from where I cut wood and it doesn’t me me feel safer. Train whistle sound carries a long ways as well as trucks gearing down. Ravens seem to have a disdainful remark about human behavior, or is that just me. I have listened to wind almost daily. Traffic, sirens, horns honking, make the natural sounds more pleasing when I hear them. This morning a cricket is close by, I don’t think I will hear that in Telluride. My ears are never full enough to be unable to take in the music of TBF, and as much as I have imbibed, I can always go for more. The tumbling mix of emotional sound, full of joy and sadness, strength and beauty, not knowing what these days will bring, other than the communion of old friends and new, walking paths my feet recall from previous experience. Seeing faces, hearing voices, bright colors clad those that pass. Smiles and a nod, recognizing the energy rising through us all. what more can we ask?
this thread makes me think of John Hartford’s
Good Old Electric Washing Machine
:cheers
…or David Bryne
It is funny how our paths might cross, or flow together like mountain streams make rivers
We see a face passing by, a question, answered, echoed from up high, glimmers in the crystal silence
Some dance beside us until we flow into the boundless sea
While others, sipped like special wine, and in a moment, gone…
So far, the snow leaves remnants of winter’s fury, and the sun awoke summer’s heat,
In this mountain space where we might meet again, you and I
Vibrating upon a plucked metal string into infinity
I have been thinking about synchronicity today, different than synesthesia, although both are quite interesting. One is an acausal connecting principle, and the the other is the experience or sensing from a different sense organ, like tasting color, or seeing sound. In both cases, there is a change in the way that we perceive the world. I’m all for changing the world in whatever way that would give us a new paradigm to hang on, a new sky hook. I saw the International Space Station go by a few nights ago, so i waved, :wave but I don’t think anyone up there saw me. These days, I wonder if anybody is looking from the ground. I hope that our energies are not so trapped by our civilized thoughts that we lose imagination. A friend is coming over to PLAY music. When we play, there is a limited game plan, usually starting with a note or two, or maybe a whole chord, and it is like tasting a huge feast. We shift on a dime, spinning further and furthur, until it is time to stop. The odd part is that we are given these moments to savor, then events keep us from playing again for six months or so. It is almost like the energies are too great to allow us much time together. A moment of bliss is more than most humans get to experience, and two moments are almost heaven, and an hour, like shooting across the sky in a space station is just imagination. I think of it as an odd sound, because not everyone that hears it, knows what it is, and for all of you that know that sound, you know how special it is …
Kinda like the recordings Grisman did with Jerry and Tony. Just friends playing around when they could, having a good ol’ time, but boy oh boy I’m glad he was recording. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t have the Pizza Tapes and others!
:wave
Feels like a long time since I heard that odd sound. It is strange what each of us considers important. here, in this group, the plucked string might be more important than our collective cooked goose. I can’t say for sure, but I know where my priorities are, even without someone telling where to spend most of my time (work). I am listening to “Potter’s Field” by Dave Alvin and the Guilty Women, a sentiment I share at this time.
i look around this world and wonder how the story is being written.
I sat in sandstone rock a few days ago, and noticed the rocks haven’t changed much since my childhood, so what is with our human culture?
I’ll admit I am a creature of magic as much as logic, if any of you can tell if you have crossed my path, which many of you have, memory or not. I think my magic doesn’t care about cash, as long as there is enough for two tickets with camping. I asked for magic last summer, and it happened, never in the way we think it should, or might, but that is the nature of magic, it is unexpected.
I have been listening to a random mix of music and the songs have touched me in ways that give me a different feel than seeing the live music on the solstice. Music is magic to me and the odd sound is how it reaches inside, slipping through my defenses and giving me a taste of the sublime, and it is the unexpected.
Dan you are a river of beautiful words… :wave
I haven’t listened to my records, (LP’s, not CD’s) for too long. I found Leon Russell with New Grass Revival, Live. What a find. i have been digging into Weather Report, Miles Davis, and I found( not a record, but a CD,) Yip sing Harburg…You may remember two or more of his songs, “Brother, can you spare a Dime”, and “Somewhere over the Rainbow”. If you haven’t heard either, your focus is too narrow. Maybe I need to had a Strange View as well. The world is still insane, I notice. So, we need more music, and love, but maybe that is in short supply in the world today. I guess we should generate that love energy and maybe add a huge dose of laughter. :lol I find myself to be at odds with so many people that want their opinion to be the truth, forgetting that opinions rarely even deal with weightier matters than that movie is good, or “I don’t like vegetables”, or i believe that my view of the world is based on reality, or at least the reality that I see. i am creeping up on the solstice of winter, seeking the essence of beauty in the nighttime sky, looking at houses covered in lights, and hunting for a hot buttered rum. The view I love best at this time of year is the fire dancing in my wood stove as the sun disappears. I think I will find Doc Watson records and Steve Grossman, and a bunch of things that I would never find on a cd. so, for now, I’ll watch a movie, listen to music I haven’t heard for years, like Barefoot Jerry, and sip something like Bushmills, in the winter twilight.
hoar frost covers every tree this morning and the cloud of fog makes it hard to believe there will be sun today. The inversion will make it look like a smoggy city here and with snow on the ground, it will stay like this for a month. It gives me time to hunt through my old records, and find Bela’s first LP, Tony Rice, Doc, Jerry Douglas, John Fahey, John
Renborn, David Grisman, and other surprises. I am bound to find bootlegs, blues, rock and jazz, many that will never be on cd’s, or mp3. I wonder if I will remember the pops and snaps from old, worn albums that are hidden presently, but with it cold outside, every 15 minutes I will get up and exercise my way to change the music. Maybe I could go from A to Z a few times. what I need to do while I listen is to restore order to the stacks, so I can find what I want. Here goes!
Sounds like a perfect way to spend a weekend.
I sealed all my old records in the wall, when we remodeled, as a time capsual…
Glad we are going to tear this place down so I can get them back :rolleyes
I have a new Gerard Turntable stored away, but no cartridge… I wonder if I can still find em?
Treasures Dan, each one. Kinda like us cowboy :medal
there are places where you can find turntable parts, I am sure on the eastern slope. I am amazed at the joy of finding records that I haven’t heard for years. There are albums that I will listen to for the special pops and crackles that are different than the CD’s when they make funny noises.
Those pops and crackle are what makes it real. Like listening in a time capsual. Wish I had a Victrola and 75’s, jumpin jive, etc. :medal