As the poet Horace states, "I shall never entirely die" and indeed I have not, just been away for awhile...There has been a formidable amount of activity whirling of late on those relentless and fickle winds of change, of which I am sure you also find yourself a passenger.
Within my own personal realm, I have delved deep inside alternate dimensions, extra-terrestrial remembrances, folklore mutations and elemental upheaval. Indeed, our recent time apart has not been a quiescent one!
SIMPLIFLY~
Yes, I spelled that right, Simplifly. Because I have learned when you simplifly your ideas will fly! let me pose a question of you, How often do we human- beans suffer unnecessary agonies due to endless excuses that serve no purpose other than to alienate us from fulfilling the very purpose of our souls existence? Is this relatable?
At one time or another we are all party to the unmentionable excuse. Yet after spending time in the high mountain air with my darling wife to be, the idea to simplifly was born and the far-reaching potential of its simple majesty is already in effect. needless to say, expect much more to come regarding the effortless agenda towards idea fruition.
Illumination Tales~
In case you missed this, here is a short piece I wrote last year as part of the Illumination Tales film series, which celebrates the words of a 9th century Irish poem, Summer has gone. Welcome friends, to the dark half of the year.
Echos~
Carl Orff. You may not be familiar with the name but you probably know his most famous piece of music if you heard it, Carmina Burana. Mr. Orff's music is the reason I went to college in order to study music seriously. Extra! Extra! Read all about it in The Orff Echo:
During our recent time apart I had the honor of being welcomed into the Orff family and was able to translate my tale of destiny and the folk spirit into scholastic prose for the community of music educators and composers who proliferate within the pages of the echo. A high honor indeed! Read the full article HERE.
Elemental furies~
As a Californian for the past 19 years I am learning about fire. Much more so this year when one came escapading unannounced up to my front doorstep. Ashes falling, nearby propane tanks exploding, and a tornado funnel of hellish halloween orange frenzy, a true billowing inferno making its way straight towards home sweet home. We were one of the lucky ones, made safe by the fates who halted the blaze a mere quarter mile from the property line.
This incident prompted a rapid reappraisal of...everything. Possessions suddenly start asking questions of their own, do you really need me? I found a home for 2 Czech family puppet theaters at our local children's shelter and more objects have been zooming around to be re-located in more needful hands. One more remedy was required to conclude the elemental disturbance, a spontaneous trip to my Detroit stomping grounds where Jim Henson's Muppets happened to be stationed. Nothing like time-weathered amphibious felt to sooth the soul.The fire also inspired a poem. My way of converting chaos into cosmos I suppose. Give a listen here to~ Fire IS.
Parental advisory: this poem contains explicit content.
I read Fire IS, in the tradition of my father, Bill Sheets, who is a Detroit radical political poet and reads his poetry much in the same way. When I was a teenager I would back him up on guitar while he would proclaim like a prophet, his uncompromising revolutionary verse. Luckily for us all, he hasn't changed a bit.
Live at last~
Where have all the stages gone? I think they are still there, lonely from lack of love but waiting in the silent wings no longer. Three shows recently cropped up, (they always do around the season of the witch) and I had the fortune to exhibit dual sides of my pocketed musical coin. A storytelling/harp performance for the Asatru folk assembly on October 17th and again on Halloween day at a private local forested stage.
Inspirations~
What would the bag of Craneskin be without your healthy dose of inspirations? In keeping with the spooky season upon us, (Halloween aint over yet by by book keeping!) I recently finished reading the soon to be classic, "Who Killed Mr. Moonlight? Bauhaus, Black magik and Benediction", by Bauhaus Bassist, David J. Haskins. Truly this is one of the best autobiographical "rock" reads this side of the seldom seen shadowy veil. The boundaries which Bauhaus pushed and shoved out of there way to forge that fractured razer edge of sharp, salvific, sonic wounding ecstasy, healed only by the warp and weft of their mutual musical chaos, makes a dark delight to read at night. Two fangs up.
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