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B is for First to Die [Section 7]


“When we first heard of the impending collaboration, many of us could only exclaim “what… were they thinking?!” but as they say, the proof was definitely in the pudding (why do they say that?). this transfixing melody not only proved us wrong but clearly acts as the much needed zip line between the canyon of classical and modern interpretative music…” excerpt from RockSalt Music Magazine – July 12th, in reference to the Handel & Black Eye Peas’ El Mesias Rebirth.
The Movement back to the Beginning – a term first termed by the Mother of American Blues, Sojourner Truth – began back in 1999 when (oddly enough) St. Paul commenced a “crusade” to dig up the sleeping bodies of Earth’s early and more prominent parents of music. These included Prokofiev, Chopin, the Groit Thione Ballago Seck, Salif Keita, Shankar, Makeba… and Handel.
Handel, who drew weary of life and had himself buried. Handel who cried for six days after he was returned to the surface. It wasn’t until the lady herself spoke to him that he seemed to be back to his (very) old self. No one knows for sure what exactly she said to him but it worked. Handel was quite literally born again. A few years and several Grammy’s later, he is at the forefront of what can only be described as a revival of the Music(s) that formed the world. Incan, Persian, Chinese, Jewish, Arabic, African… Gypsy beats, Indus Chants… mixing it with and pouring it over modern elements. “If we are ever to find our true space in this ever shifting landscape, we MUST escape to the beginning.” – Handel
One of the music’s most interesting phenomenon is the rise of Death Metal. Often times mistaken for demons, Death Metal bands dress up in garb than they THINK reflect the true form of death, much to the delight of civilized, contemporary (contemptible?) society. But more than that, Death Metal has in its own societal slapping way provided it’s listeners (surprisingly, of ALL ages) with the thought of a fantasy. To die. To end. Preferably at the hands of the asteroid.

-Uno Adam. Seeker, Searcher, Music Hoarder.


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B is for Loving Boys

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There are boys I love. And they love me. And we’re open about it. Just last Saturday I got a text message from one of those boys who said “I love you too man” in response to something I said. My boys are artists, artistes, atheists, and agirl (who is in fact one of the boys so hence the addition to the category) fathers, brothers and high school musicals (Jed and Umar will get that one – lol). We share ideas, music, random nothingness and Brent Worthington . We approve, reprove and listen to each other. I think the girl that I end up with must in fact be like the boys I love. Good looks aside… please… have some substance. One of my boys is appalled that I watched Gossip Girl (if you’re going to bash it… know what it is first) and has for this [and other minor reasons] jokingly labeled me a homosexual. But he who looks like Miley Cyrus with rainbow bandanas should not talk [chuckles]. I love my boys…

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B is for The Haunting October

--> I first felt it in the shower. Nostalgia. Creeping up my leg and resting on my shoulder. Bony fingers caresses in that sickeningly sweet way nostalgia often does. It was the end of September or the beginning of October... That night in the shower when I remembered an old October, reading poetry at a wine factory; with sandwiches as big as your face. And I remembered two tables. Friends and a girl. And it was October. The sealing of fate. 2008.
Days passed but not before the memory of darkness and a knife. The surgery that changed me... And it was October. October or go to Heaven. 2007.
Time passed and so did my expectations. Fluctuations in blood flow in the head causes heart to flutter for another. Infatuation of the highest order. The beginning of tears and sighs of"it's not fair" and the wandering nature of soul; I'm done, turn me over. And it was October. All my queries I vowed to shelve. 2012.
And Sunday. When I threw the scroll and claimed I was don…