A Passion Play pt. 2

Last time, I nerded out a little, and then we covered the first portion of A Passion Play, the prog rock concept album by Jethro Tull. Here’s part two, in which we meet the devil himself.

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A Passion Play pt. 1

Let’s take a break from this Daggerfall mess. Here’s a Halloween special! It’s a day early for ye olde posting schedule, so don’t expect to see anything Wednesday. Halloween is the time, in the northern hemisphere at least, where we feel the presence of the dead close to us. So what better than an album about death and rebirth? Nothing, that’s what! Let’s talk about Jethro Tull’s A Passion Play.

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Taken from my childhood home's yard in 2014. You can't actually see the cemetery from here, but it's between the viewer and the ridge with the red trees, basically behind the house (not mine).

Heathen Wizard Enjoys Gospel Music

It’s a bright, sunny day in early May. Highway 460 is revealing delights I, who grew up along it, have never imagined. Soon-to-be pumpkin patches vie with tiny post offices for our attention. My wife and I are driving nearly two hours, from my empty childhood home, to visit my mother in the hospital. We’ve had a  hard few days. I was in the hospital for some routine tests, which came at the end of days of fasting. Yesterday I thought my mother was dying, and we drove over three hours to see her, then two, at midnight, through deer-crossed night roads, to sleep. And we are discussing how lovely and remarkable old gospel music is. This is odd, because I am a vaguely heathen chaos magician and my wife is a Buddhist-flavored atheist.

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The Summer Solstice and Anglo-Saxon Poetry

…or how to make a diy ritual when the cookbook won’t do

The Summer Solstice approaches. This should be going out on the day before, but if you live ahead of EDT(US) then you may already be in there. If so, happy solstice! If, like me, you’re still waiting, happy solstice eve! The difficulty with the solar festivals, for me, is how exactly to celebrate them. Halloween, Yule, I know how to celebrate those. So, often, the solstices and equinoxes don’t get the same pomp and circumstance in my house. I wanted to change that this year.

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Magic Writing

I’ve been struggling for years to get back into writing creative stuff — by that I mean poetry, fiction, so on. A friend once said I was one of the most prolific writers he knew, even though he is the most prolific writer I know. I tell you that to tell you this: since I finished my MFA I have completed maybe three short stories, and no poems. Or rather, every so often I will write a poem in the margin of a book or in a journal, but I never consider making it public in some way. This blog post serves as a companion, a non-fiction piece accompanying this poem. You should read it, but you can read this post first if you’d prefer. Or the poem. There’s no set order or anything, is what I’m saying.

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Memories Apurpose

Being convinced I play in Memphis.
Therapy -> equations in a computer.
Wife, friend, become a computer.
I knew how he felt about my birthday.
College campus as my own mind.
Gabriel Pomerand -> equations in the answers written here,
this journal this morning – Dad proud of mourning.
A game played in Florence, not Lexington.
The fear of a friend for shooting the two inch hole between rooms.

Wife still in bed as in a blind catechism, unheard unfelt.
Art, equations in Memphis.
Absolute certainty on these roads.
I came back to the fictional.
“Now, that song!”
Moon in Vietnam.
Attempt to write here, this journal this pen, a plastic bag.
The old 50s “atomic” sign.

I ended up memories apurpose.

There is a companion post to this poem here.

Future pathways and granola

We have patterns in our heads. That’s not news, of course. If we didn’t have patterns, we wouldn’t be able to read, or drive a car, or cook a steak. We have instructions, recipes, how-tos, habits, Pavlovian responses, Freudian imaging, Jungian archetypes… We’ve got it all. Our heads are pretty crowded. So let me tell you about granola bars.

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