City of Legends

Dutch tech-musical-wizard Ophidian has permitted me to not only feature his great piece "Pegasus", which features my reading of "the philosophy of dreams" but also includes his newest work "the violence of indifference", which includes my reading of my poem "from out of the city" in my latest "from out of the city" (coincidentally) podcast.

You can subscribe to the podcast at Apple’s iTunes Music Store or through the Feedburner feed (click here, dummy).  Give a listen and let me know what’s your take.

Thanks again to the great Ophidian!

Note to Avid Fan:  The book progresses.  My editor assures me it is proceeding well and will be amazing.  I trust her.

Because he doesn’t.

The cats are bricking themselves into the corner, I put on David Bowie’s live rendition of "Width of a Circle" from David Live.  I think the cats have converted to Christianity, there are no atheists in foxholes.

Feeling pretty good…have my pains and heart strains but all in all, this has been the year.  Figured out some very important stuff, like the emotional alchemy to falling out of love.  Never had that formula before.  It was obvious.  Say goodbye to a couple of jungle cats.  That was a relief.  Tired of the kicking, the sabotage, of my life I had committed by confusing passion for compassion. 

Writing like a madman.  No, actually, not metaphorical, I am writing like a madman.  Hanging by my heels and screaming in Serbian at the clay wizard.  He never really understood me anyway.

Actually, no, just amped up on good vibes.  Yes, the Sunday Girl still reigns supreme.  I’ve promised that won’t change, you don’t want to make me go back on my word, do you?  No?  Good.  This is love, not confusion.  It feels good.  It is good. 

Watch the blog for news…some major movement in my universe over the next month or so.

Hold it, have to go, the cats have put together a primitive flamethrower and are trying to drive me into a large cardboard box so they can ship me away.  If they let me choose the city, I’m ready.

Today my father turns 87.  He is in good health and I am happy is is strong and well and in my life.  I am blessed.  He is a good man.

As I write I am sitting here with my headphone son, bombarding my soul with the most gut-wrenching songs I know.  Not to punish myself, but to test the fibers.  In case you have been living in a hermetically-sealed mason jaw on Funk & Wagnall’s back porch for the last several weeks, I gave my heart.  Vegas oddsmakers are disappointed, as they had me as a 3:2 to never say "I love you" to a woman again.  I love it when I confound my critics.  I think I’ve made a career of it, and a legacy.  Always bet on red.

No, people, I will stop giving my heart permanently when I am dead.  And maybe not even then, I have hope of an afterlife.  I may fall and get bloodied, but I am resolute.  I have every hope this will not be necessary to test, again, this one, this "Sunday Girl" is extraordinary. 

But I am sitting here listening to the likes of Bush’s "Glycerine", Art Garfunkle’s "All I Know" and Neil Young’s prophetic "Heart of Gold".  Glutton for punishment?  Nah, just sparring with my soul.  My last two significant relationships bloodied me pretty badly.  I have to get tough, strong, fast and resilient.  I don’t plan to fall or fail, or to see this one slip away and crumble to dust, but that, in the end is an exercise of her free will and beyond my ethical boundaries to control.  Yes, I have shown an ability to influence people with my words, but to usurp free will?  No!

I have updated my Amomancer blog with more of the White Sunday works…I am considering a totem shift (yes, I know I foreswore the totems during the Aubergine era, but we all saw how well that went).  I am considering (furtive glances to the side) changing her totem from "The Sunday Girl" or "White Sunday" to…Apokalypsis.  There’s a couple of very valid reasons to do so.  I’m thinking about it.  Suggestions?  Ideas?  Bribes?

Yes, I am right now unwinding to Whitney Houston’s "I Wanna Dance with Somebody".  You got a problem with that?  Sheesh!

I will fill in everyone on the second part of this entry’s title later…special thanks to Mark Petrulo for that tale.

The first part of the title involves an email I got just today from a reader in the Netherlands (no, not the Nether Regions or the Nefarious Zone) who had encountered a musical composition last Spring in the Netherlands and had opportunity to meet the performer and asked him about some lyrics he particularly enjoyed. 

He was told they were lines from a poem, but the performer (whose name I do not know yet) declined to name the poet.  The reader (whom I will identify as "Marcel" as that is how they identified themself) set out to track down the source, eventually finding out from a third party that it was from a poem of mine.  Unfortunately, no one seemed to be sure which poem (hey, over 18,000 poems in my catalog, it gets complicated).  So, Marcel wrote to me asking me to identify the lyric.

The piece I was given is actually two different sections from my poem "the philosophy of dreams", which you can read at the Amomancer site:  http://amomancer.blogspot.com/2007/05/philosophy-of-dreams.html and for which archive.org keeps a recording of my reading it in a virtual beatnik cafe.

So, there tis, the mystery lyrics in Netherlands are solved.  I have asked Marcel to tell me the name of the artist and where I might find an audio of the performance.  I will keep you informed…

Now, about the red Tae Kwan Do t-shirt…

No, I am NOT working on a new CD, but a single track that I think you will find amusing and quite a departure from what I’ve given you so far.  And the "Bo Diddley" that I have been talking about in various spots around the web for the last few days?  It’s the guitar riff, the "Bo Diddley" riff that has been used by so many recording artists over the years.  I had a friend who was supposed to record it for me to abuse in Garage Band, but as usual I am finding myself the most reliable person I know.

I built it myself, synthetically.  And it is solid, so I am playing with it.

By the way, to those who know or care, it is February 16th.  Four days to go.

Out of the goodness of my heart.  And to silence the people griping.  I have modified the free CD track page at www.williamfdevault.com to include a player.

(sound of crickets)

Hey. 

Maybe I need to explain more fully.  When you go to the page (linked above, for the truly lazy amongst you) with the free tracks, you will find the old, gold table for downloads, with the tracks delineated by CD.

But you will also find, at the top of the page (just below and to the left of banner model Christina Banderas, had to get in a plug for her again) a javascript player, pre-loaded with 27 tracks totaling well over two hours of readings and interpretations, most with music, ranging in genre from folk to rock, electric synthesizers to pastoral cithara.  I like to play, what can I say?

So you can click the play button and sit back and not have to click new tracks (unless you want to replay or skip a track or just keep listening to The Gods of Love, Live at Kyrienar until your head explodes.

Free music and poetry all around.

I put up the first stage of the free CD page at williamfdevault.com.

Still far from complete, it presents a full discography of my CD-available recordings, as well as links to download (or at least listen) to many of them, for free.

So, if you want to hear my interpretations of my works (sometimes with music, sometime "naked"), you should follow the link above to its logical conclusion.

I will be updating it regularly over the next few days and weeks until nearly all, if not all, of my CD-available works are listed for download.

Namaste!

One of my recordings, Strange…but Beautiful, is currently making the rounds at www.garageband.com, where fellow musicians and music lovers review and critique work as part of a series of ongoing competitions.

I got a review feedback the other day. Not really positive, as the reviewer felt that the piece was misclassified. Ah. Genre. As a writer, I have learned to live with it as a reality. Note I am not, to most, a "writer", but a "poet. Narrowing my field immediately. I have gone from Ernest Hemingway to Percy Dovetonsils in one stroke.

But let’s make it narrower. I’m a "romantic poet". No. Still too broad. Let’s make it "romantic poet of the internet". As much as I love my sobriquet and the firm place to stand that it grants me, I recognize my perch is small, in a far corner, and slippery. You have any idea how many people have been declared or self-declared "Poet Laureate" of the Internet, Cyberspace or the Blogosphere by some person, ezine, organization or self? A lot. Some even post the label on the websites and letterheads. It gets crazy.

Let’s not forget that I am also an American poet, or an English-language poet, not to mention one who has been assigned, usually by someone more ignorant than should be allowed, to various states of the Union. I am also male. Right-handed. A Registered Democrat. A former Baptist. A Quaker. Divorced. A Father. Any of these labels can both buy me into and out of an audience, despite the fact that they bear little relevance to what I might have written or might be writing at this very moment.

At the same time that we fight the good fight against genrefication, we are glad to have our own little patch of land, our base. It means that those who might not appreciate our area of endeavours can avoid them more easily. It means we are dismissable by those who may dismiss us anyway.

I have seen it, you have seen it, and we have all done it: Applied labels to simplify our lives, our choices, to narrow our options and those of others.

"To a mouse, cheese is cheese. That’s why mousetraps are effective." - Wendell Johnson. But I digress.

It is difficult to take what is made of a nature and pour it into bottles of a pre-ordained shape and size. Few cows give exactly a half-gallon of milk, I am sure. So, for now, I will sit back and wait and see what is going on witht he reviewers of my work. I received a very nice note from an Australian listener who was particularly impressed with my lyrics and was interested in my upcoming performances in their area.

I guess some things do transcend labels.

Since all of my other collaborations are on hold indefinitely (now you know why I am usually a solo act) I have fallen in cahoots with extremely gifted techno-dance-musical artist Jezika™ for a song project, utilizing my words and her sounds (yes, that’s her. yes, she’s very pretty, why do you ask?).

I will let you know how it turns out, but anyone interested in hearing (and seeing) more of this very talented young woman need only hit her MySpace page at http://www.myspace.com/jezikajunglemonkey

Don’t worry, all, I am keeping one hand firmly lashed to the third rail of the one in whom I trust whose name must not be said because you all are tired of hearing it.

Jezika and I are still discussing what poems or poems to adapt, but this is my first time in a while working with a musical collaborator, and I hope it comes off well. Who knows? I might have to take her on the road this fall!