Interior Design and Aisling

There are many franchises in my city. Dairy Queen, Les Schwab, Walmart, blahh blah blah. Each one is a bit different though. I have my favorites. The way the tires create hidden nooks or the particular flicker of florescent lights all help to distinguish the different variations. They are not the same. You can’t even find what you want half as fast as in your home store. (That’s what we’re going to call it. A home store.) There is no reason to feel ashamed of avoiding the bad versions of your stores. Stick to the home version. These places are sickening anyway. Do not settle for the bottom of the barrel of the filth barrel. It would be nice to have a map of each home store. Nothing to fancy. But the aisles must be represented. There is something very special about aisles. I should write a song about them. I love aisles.

In the year 2o81, an over the counter vitamin company created a mild migraine medication. Many years earlier, migraine medication of all kinds was found to be extremely harmful to the brain. The emotional and psychological side effects were found in 100% of takers of the drugs. This new strand was advertised to be without the harmful element. Because the product was admittedly less powerful, consumers were encouraged to take as many as they needed; much like the myth that you cannot overdose on vitamin C. Packaged in two gallon tubs and flavored with BUTTERED CHEEZE, the brain balls were a hit. It was not uncommon for families to break out the drug for a movie snack in place of popcorn. “No headache required to enjoy this treat.” That was printed on every label. Commercials were often themed with a depiction of a nurse massaging an exposed brain. Later, in 2o84, a New Jersey resident named Rick Seth O’gable was arrested for illegal distribution to the Canadian government. Until this, few had been aware that this product was banned in all developed countries, besides the United States. Citizens began to wonder why other nations didn’t want the brain product in their homes. Shockingly, when sought out for questioning, reporters found Mr. O’gable serving life in prison. Apparently the federal prosecutors deemed the product to warrant criminal treatment on the same severity as ecstasy. Many obstacles were placed in the way of any who tried to learn more. Curious pharmaceutical enthusiasts eventually began to analyze the contents of the “snack” independently. They discovered that the drug had a severe side affect that had gone undetected. It affected the nervous system in a way that forced the victim into an artificial state of extreme “insensitivity to pain.” This new development was very enlightening and explained millions of cases in the last three years in which, patients failed to seek medical attention for various illness and physical trauma. They could not feel pain, so if no visible symptoms arose, takers of the drug had no way of knowing that something was wrong. Many theorized that this was a conspiracy designed to prepare Americans for militia battle. Further speculation assumed the governments involvement in a scheme to start a war. Rick Seth O’gable was a retired chemist who was privy to the medical “advantage” and put it to profit and thus was unofficially branded a traitor. Canadians were disappointed to miss out on the chance to mutate. 

In the year 2o81, an over the counter vitamin company created a mild migraine medication. Many years earlier, migraine medication of all kinds was found to be extremely harmful to the brain. The emotional and psychological side effects were found in 100% of takers of the drugs. This new strand was advertised to be without the harmful element. Because the product was admittedly less powerful, consumers were encouraged to take as many as they needed; much like the myth that you cannot overdose on vitamin C. Packaged in two gallon tubs and flavored with BUTTERED CHEEZE, the brain balls were a hit. It was not uncommon for families to break out the drug for a movie snack in place of popcorn. “No headache required to enjoy this treat.” That was printed on every label. Commercials were often themed with a depiction of a nurse massaging an exposed brain. 

Later, in 2o84, a New Jersey resident named Rick Seth O’gable was arrested for illegal distribution to the Canadian government. Until this, few had been aware that this product was banned in all developed countries, besides the United States. Citizens began to wonder why other nations didn’t want the brain product in their homes. Shockingly, when sought out for questioning, reporters found Mr. O’gable serving life in prison. Apparently the federal prosecutors deemed the product to warrant criminal treatment on the same severity as ecstasy. Many obstacles were placed in the way of any who tried to learn more. Curious pharmaceutical enthusiasts eventually began to analyze the contents of the “snack” independently. They discovered that the drug had a severe side affect that had gone undetected. It affected the nervous system in a way that forced the victim into an artificial state of extreme “insensitivity to pain.” This new development was very enlightening and explained millions of cases in the last three years in which, patients failed to seek medical attention for various illness and physical trauma. They could not feel pain, so if no visible symptoms arose, takers of the drug had no way of knowing that something was wrong. Many theorized that this was a conspiracy designed to prepare Americans for militia battle. Further speculation assumed the governments involvement in a scheme to start a war. Rick Seth O’gable was a retired chemist who was privy to the medical “advantage” and put it to profit and thus was unofficially branded a traitor. Canadians were disappointed to miss out on the chance to mutate. 

Demons Circle the Surface of the Moon

Nightmares are made of monsters and chaos. The chaos starts in two pieces and when joined, they become chaos and confusion. The first part is a riddle of malice. The second part is defeat. Both pieces are always complex. There are many layers. The first layer is the maintaining of peace. The victim tries to protect themselves and the precious possessions around them. The second layer is the monster; a force that seeks to destroy for a reason that the victim is unable to relate to. The third layer is the fact that if the monster succeeds, a third party will benefit. This mystery person or corporate entity is seldom thought of directly. So the monster is acting in cooperation or in slavery to a master. All layers represent a plane of reality during the victims’s life outside of dreams. The fourth layer transcends the nightmare universe. To me, this is where the true fear comes to play. Someone, whether good or evil, is trying to communicate something from their existence into yours. But they don’t want it to be easy to understand. Perhaps they want to cripple you subliminally or maybe they want to warn you of something. Either way, I have no doubt that these messages can and will most likely shape your mindset from thence on. This entity is powerful and has access to your soul’s eye. Not a light access level if you ask me. The fifth layer is the location of this entity. On some level, it is inside you or beyond that, is you. So this could mean a few things. You are emotionally paralyzed to the point of your judgement being completely self destructive. A pure part of your consciousness lies within and is screaming instructions at you via nightmares. Or maybe it is a spiritual force; demon, angel. It could even be powerful, subliminal media or pop culture messages materializing into their sickening “reality.” Or maybe it’s all the things your friends and family and enemies DON’T say. Those missed body language comprehensions or complex rumor chains that only make sense deep within. Denial can be a wicked shield. One thing I haven’t touched upon. Defeat. Every true nightmare ends in defeat, disgrace, dismemberment, the unraveling of one’s rational mind. Every nightmare ends the existence of hope. Is it training? Is it intimidation? 

The moon is full tonight. It has layers too. In the first it is invisible. Then I wait til nightfall to move into the possibility of seeing it. Then I move to the third layer, which lies outdoors. I can now see the glow it gives to the landscape. I travel under canopies until I find a sky light. Standing still, I wait for the clouds to unveil  him. Now I can see the white blur. My eyes focus and with a little help from a seasoned gazer, I see the face of the moon. But I can’t reach out and touch that eerie cheek. He is beyond my immediate reach. Indeed he is, but I assure you that he exists fully in my world and he is touching me at that very moment. So is the tall skeletal figure that stands behind you tonight as you sweat and moan in your bed. His face is long and toothy with the abstract shape of a horse. His bones ooze. He needn’t touch you though. 

There may be things that are only good to do all by yourself. That may exist. It’s wonderful to grab a hand and say, “Now look at this, and oh look too at this. Let’s go over here and spin on this.” However, at some point one get’s exhausted of one’s mystic resources. Sometimes I think of it as a place. Sometimes I think of it as a state of mind. Many ways that one can summon a presence of magic. This is the word of the year. If I stray long enough, I can often find doorways to enchantment. Some are just rooms and other lead to other rooms. Things that are forgotten or undeserved because they are taken for granted. Once I find a little gem, I’ll run back and say, “Oh boy, have I got a doozy for you!” Then the sharing comes into play. It’s so fun. It’s so much more than fun. I ponder on these things because something else looms over the spectrum: Where does it all lead? Where can I go with this? What does it look like to transform? As a muffin man cocoons into a cake man, so a magician transforms into… … …

There may be things that are only good to do all by yourself. That may exist. It’s wonderful to grab a hand and say, “Now look at this, and oh look too at this. Let’s go over here and spin on this.” However, at some point one get’s exhausted of one’s mystic resources. Sometimes I think of it as a place. Sometimes I think of it as a state of mind. Many ways that one can summon a presence of magic. This is the word of the year.

If I stray long enough, I can often find doorways to enchantment. Some are just rooms and other lead to other rooms. Things that are forgotten or undeserved because they are taken for granted. Once I find a little gem, I’ll run back and say, “Oh boy, have I got a doozy for you!” Then the sharing comes into play. It’s so fun. It’s so much more than fun. I ponder on these things because something else looms over the spectrum: Where does it all lead? Where can I go with this? What does it look like to transform? As a muffin man cocoons into a cake man, so a magician transforms into… … …

A strange destiny happened the other day… I was gathered with those that I gather with on Saturdays and out of the blue was offered so many band-aids. “Where did these come from? What’s wrong with them? Okay, I’ll keep them.” That’s what I said when Jael gave them to me. Apparently Austin randomly gave them to her. I have never investigated this oddity. So I put them in my back pack that I take everywhere. It’s got my food reserves, journals and overnight stuff and matches and so forth. Now it’s got band-aids; awesome. Now fast forward to when I forget about this. Set your time for ten minutes later. The next day I end up going on a mystical quest for exploratory satisfaction. I do something that I usually never do. I empty out my backpack to make room for some hiking essentials; water, food and I leave whatever is useful… Like band-aids. So we’re questing along and cutting nettles and paving labyrinths when I suddenly slip on a crossing log. P - A - I - N. In the pit below was a filling of thorns and thistles. Ripped and torn I was. Bleeding I was. As we walked further, I noticed dirt dust getting kicked up into my bare wound. This is when I remembered the band-aids. I used lots of them! I needed every single one. My wrist needed one and my ankle needed ten. They didn’t work perfectly but they helped a whole lot.
Now when I was offered the strange gift of band-aids, I had a slight hunch that they might come in handy. My mind quickly flashed to times I or someone else has wanted one but could not find one. It’s strange how things that present themselves so easily seem suspicious. It was a resource I didn’t need at the time or seemingly even in the near future. But I did need them didn’t I? Life is less of a hallway with doors and more of a classic maze. You can’t see around the corner until it’s upon you. Keys always precede their locks. But a pouch can only hold so many keys; a pack, so many items. One must choose wisely. 

A strange destiny happened the other day… I was gathered with those that I gather with on Saturdays and out of the blue was offered so many band-aids. “Where did these come from? What’s wrong with them? Okay, I’ll keep them.” That’s what I said when Jael gave them to me. Apparently Austin randomly gave them to her. I have never investigated this oddity. So I put them in my back pack that I take everywhere. It’s got my food reserves, journals and overnight stuff and matches and so forth. Now it’s got band-aids; awesome. 

Now fast forward to when I forget about this. Set your time for ten minutes later. The next day I end up going on a mystical quest for exploratory satisfaction. I do something that I usually never do. I empty out my backpack to make room for some hiking essentials; water, food and I leave whatever is useful… Like band-aids. 

So we’re questing along and cutting nettles and paving labyrinths when I suddenly slip on a crossing log. P - A - I - N. In the pit below was a filling of thorns and thistles. Ripped and torn I was. Bleeding I was. As we walked further, I noticed dirt dust getting kicked up into my bare wound. This is when I remembered the band-aids. I used lots of them! I needed every single one. My wrist needed one and my ankle needed ten. They didn’t work perfectly but they helped a whole lot.

Now when I was offered the strange gift of band-aids, I had a slight hunch that they might come in handy. My mind quickly flashed to times I or someone else has wanted one but could not find one. It’s strange how things that present themselves so easily seem suspicious. It was a resource I didn’t need at the time or seemingly even in the near future. But I did need them didn’t I? Life is less of a hallway with doors and more of a classic maze. You can’t see around the corner until it’s upon you. Keys always precede their locks. But a pouch can only hold so many keys; a pack, so many items. One must choose wisely. 

Spitball

Sometimes people say too much. They say things that they haven’t thought through. Or they say things that were supposed to be secret. Or they speak out of ignorance or denial. That isn’t good.

There is another kind too though. Words that aren’t necessarily foolish or treacherous. Sometimes the person listening just can’t handle the truth. They don’t want it or can’t react decently. It’s hard to know when this is the case though. Even in mid sentence, one can fail to see the blockade. Because, who wouldn’t want the truth right? So so so many want nothing to do with it.

But why?

Too serious. Too painful. Too ugly. Too shocking. Too life changing, boring, repetitive, unpopular, exposing of one’s self loathing, hypocritical, foreign and frightening.

This business of being an open book can cost you greatly. Greatly, I tell you. Is it worth it? The list gets smaller and smaller of those desiring and worthy of this candor. Maybe only those who hide nothing can intake everything… But who hides NOTHING? Hmmm… None perhaps.

But I do not blame any of us who don’t wish the heavy burden of drama and confession and enlightenment because often times there is incredible amounts of pollution in the drink. So much bias and error and evil can be found in the delivery of truth. Makes for a sour taste. Thirst is not quenched. This is not good.

Tracks 1-4 and 6-9 are FINISHED. To bridge the gap, I began to create track 5 earlier this week. It is a nearly completely synthetic piece and will be my first instrumental song released. All sounds are recorded and just need to be manipulated before their done. I expect to be finished by tomorrow evening. This leaves me with about eight songs left before The Duke’s Twisted Garden is finished.

The Duke’s Twisted Garden actually only refers to two thirds of this project. One aspect being the soundtrack disc, which will include all songs as part of an audio story. The second aspect goes hand in hand; a picture book that goes along with each track. The third aspect is disc two. This cd will have all the songs without the story overlayed so they can be enjoyed more traditionally. This disc does not yet have a name and probably won’t until it’s complete.

Just a quick update for whoever is out there…

                                                          love Callisto

ETSY SHOP OPEN

I’ve started selling original prints, such as this new piece titled, “Hunter Kye.”

https://www.etsy.com/listing/150800905/hunter-kye-illustrated-print

Hunter Kye Illustrated Print

There are more available in the shop. For those who I know personally, please feel free to contact me so you can by pass shipping.

http://www.etsy.com/shop/SuchHandsomeSilver?ref=si_shop

Callisto Collection - Entry #6

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Enya – Watermark                                                                                   1988 WEA Records Ltd.

By Callisto Nerezza, May 9th, 2013 

My favorite song on the album: On Your Shore

My favorite lyric on the album: “Soft, blue horizons reach far into my childhood days. As you are rising to bring me my forgotten ways.”

The Sensation of Touch

Looking at that cold water for an hour now, I’m relieved to say I just jumped in. Every second was just as majestic as I hoped and kind of knew it would be. She’s never let me down but sometimes she is daunting and distant. A little bit through the meadow, a tumble down the bank. I swear there’s fifty little ice rafts, drifting over the surface. And I’m seldom in the mood to be cold or wrought with chattering teeth. Come now…  Ah, well, I suppose that is unfair because appearances aren’t everything. I’ve never known the river to be unpleasant by any degree; even though it keeps sailing over the bed below with no end ever. I suspect though, that it is not a river, but a moat. Yes, with an island in the center. The album loops skillfully with the landscape on either side, perfectly spliced to create the illusion of continuity. That word illusion is rather accusing I’m afraid and I wish to replace it with canvas. Watermark is painted with splashes of nymph laughter and the old sap from many different types of bark; so many textures to explore. And not to say that these thoughtful arrangements are incredibly estranged from one another. No, remember the success of her blending technique. Colors are so pretty and soft together here as I wade.

I’m fairly certain that I’ve never entered the water’s edge at the same place twice, so it doesn’t matter where one begins. “River” is where we’ll presently tread. Your ears are looking this way and that; not sure what they see. Great big eyes blink and then vanish and I’ll the while a bouncing creature, swooshes by on a moon, blue, tree swing. Slow goes the rope, and swift the faceless colt as you dodge his passes. You don’t really care what it is though because you expected such strange and wise motions to circle high above your head. Enya sings in Celtic sometimes too so it’s not necessary to have a clear foreground in your mind. Mine gets fuzzy and thin and then I walk back to my subconscious and visit there a while. The tone of each instrument is very intentional and smooth. This way, it feels less like music and more like hypnosis. That doesn’t mean you can’t listen in the car though. “Storms in Africa II” comes on and you’re on the horse, driving toward the sunrise. There is always something to look forward to because the tracks lift each other up, one after the other and into the clouds. I often throw a Watermark song into custom playlists for this very reason. They serve as excellent introductions to not only themselves but other good music as well.

Imagination is a mysterious and holy tool. It cannot be feigned or sought without passion. And yet it cannot be bullied and wrangled into submission. That is why Watermark is so spiritual. She stands in a constant state of true, transcending thought. I admire her as I would a phoenix preparing for take-off. The crimson plumage ordains a fierce animal both intimidating and alluring. But this solitary beast ultimately wants to share with us in her beauty and power. It is in her nature to be admired and branded “legendary” and “mysterious.” I would say that the disc falls just short of being frightening but I’m forgetting “Cursum Perficio.” It’s such a relief too because it’s so rare for an artist to capture ominous voices that deliver delightful shivers like these. And oh how the tender words of “On Your Shore” bring shivers; of a different kind. I cherish this portal into eternal vision as her soul cherishes and cries out for the figure moving in and out of our focus. Who is she missing and holding in such soft, sad reverence? It must be someone immortal and kind; someone who knows her.

“Cool waves wash over and drift away with dreams of youth. So time is stolen. I cannot hold you long enough.” To be understood is one of my deepest dreams. Like with true love, I wonder, “Have I ever felt it?” It’s one thing to be embraced and swept away by your equals; but to be fully known and yet still loved is amazing. Amazing in that it is too incredible to fathom; because he who knows you is not your equal. For in all transparency; you do not know yourself. And you certainly don’t know how much you need Watermark until you feel her up against your chest and know her to the depth of, “You are alive. You are alive because you have a heartbeat.” This rhythm is familiar to your own and thus you recognize its presence. Funny though, because until now, it seems you’d forgotten its very existence.

Been going at it hard lately and the second album is about half way finished. Papa beats me bull whip when I slack so wanted to shovel some proof out of my realm. ALSO, between shots, there are hidden and special boys and girl slowly churning in the crock pot. Brand new fingerprints on this discCCC. ;)