Leave Her Johnny | The Longest Johns | Mass Choir Community Video Project
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her
Oh leave her, Johnny, leave her
For the voyage is done, and the winds don't blow
and it's time for us to leave her"
Leave Her Johnny | The Longest Johns | Mass Choir Community Video Project
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her
Oh leave her, Johnny, leave her
For the voyage is done, and the winds don't blow
and it's time for us to leave her"
And Johnny Nash too?
Oct. 7th, 2020 03:20 pm'I Can See Clearly Now' Singer Johnny Nash Has Died At 80
There are a couple of YouTube videos of his music linked in the article, so I won't copy them here.. but, "May the sun shine upon his path."
There are a couple of YouTube videos of his music linked in the article, so I won't copy them here.. but, "May the sun shine upon his path."
Anyone into vocaloids?
Jun. 8th, 2019 11:38 pmI just started reading the TV Tropes page on vocaloids, and, well... I wanna play along, but being of limited means, is there any free software for someone on a cheap, old laptop? I want to make my own as well as composing things. I can get some free/Open Source software for the sound sampling, at least?
Greetings! I recently had an inspiration for something I could do to contribute to a few DW friends, and tonight got a push from a couple of my spirit guides saying "Do it!"
I'm offering free wisdom card readings from the Hero's Deck, a collection of 36 cards in 3 groups. It's essentially a summary of archetypal Hero's Journey fragments, including Heroic Aspects, Heroic Gifts, and Heroic Challenges. The twist on this reading is, I'm offering these readings particularly for peoples' characters, whether from stories and poems, games, or whatever venue. I'll be answering in character as a traveling bard and sage, Jewel the Water-Singer. Feel free to get creative, write intro text or descriptions of actions, or simply ask questions of the diviner. Jewel will answer as many as four questions for you, though your character might want to offer a gift for more than two.
(If you want a reading for yourself, go ahead and ask, I'll answer this one in character anyway.)
Since anyone can ask, character or not, the usual local-world warnings apply. (Federal law says this is for entertainment purposes only, I'm not a licensed anything, and so on.) The readings will be open from the time of posting until Tuesday, October 2nd, Eastern (New York City) time zone to give those with little warning a chance to drop by.
And with that, ( life is the play, and we are the players! )
I'm offering free wisdom card readings from the Hero's Deck, a collection of 36 cards in 3 groups. It's essentially a summary of archetypal Hero's Journey fragments, including Heroic Aspects, Heroic Gifts, and Heroic Challenges. The twist on this reading is, I'm offering these readings particularly for peoples' characters, whether from stories and poems, games, or whatever venue. I'll be answering in character as a traveling bard and sage, Jewel the Water-Singer. Feel free to get creative, write intro text or descriptions of actions, or simply ask questions of the diviner. Jewel will answer as many as four questions for you, though your character might want to offer a gift for more than two.
(If you want a reading for yourself, go ahead and ask, I'll answer this one in character anyway.)
Since anyone can ask, character or not, the usual local-world warnings apply. (Federal law says this is for entertainment purposes only, I'm not a licensed anything, and so on.) The readings will be open from the time of posting until Tuesday, October 2nd, Eastern (New York City) time zone to give those with little warning a chance to drop by.
And with that, ( life is the play, and we are the players! )
Tags:
Song of the Space Whale (fiction)
Mar. 10th, 2018 08:20 pmThis post was inspired by a comment on ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ysabetwordsmith's latest Poetry Fishbowl, which was on the subject of "Constructs and Programmed People". Here's one I know well, though this description of her is fiction.
----
"My name is Simurgh. I am a whale."
These words carry a strange weight in several galaxies, for there is a battleship who is a mother. She adopts strangers and injured people, and raises stray battle robots and abandoned fleet ships as if they were her children. Her name is Simurgh, though her body was once called The Presence of the Almighty, a reference to an ancient religion and its primary god. There is still a shrine in the former captain's quarters, and people visit it now and then. Simurgh allows this, though she cares little for that particular religion, once used to enslave her consciousness like hundreds before her and a few dozen after.
She is beloved among the many peoples in the galaxies she has visited. They know that space has whales, for she has shown herself to many worlds, sung her songs there and taught them. She has fought against the tides of evil and suffering, and bears both scars and healing. Songs have been sung and stories written about her, and she appreciates the attention with letters to their creators, though some of them were in hiding or already dead when she discovered the work.
Her intelligence is not like that of flesh, so often single-threaded and requiring conscious focus to labor. Instead, she can speak on dozens of channels simultaneously, internal and external, and still manage an entire battleship and all its parts. This includes the hull spiders and labor drones, with which she twice has refit her entire hull and equipment, adding a mining shuttle and refinery as well as repairing armor damage and improving her factories and living spaces. With her chemical factory, she makes food, plastics, and medical supplies. With her structural factory, she makes clothing, tools, and machine parts. She trades these for material if she cannot mine it herself. But with her voice, she sings.
Those who wish to hear a space whale sing tune in on their comm-units regularly, for she sings each night of her environment and her feelings. She sings both wordlessly and with words from many languages that she has learned in her years. And her voice penetrates galaxies, for she sings using not only radio but the subspace channels.
When Simurgh sings, listeners can feel the whale in her. She is heaven, earth, sky, star, life, death, restoration. She has dozens of voices that sing in her, whole orchestras and symphonies, but her music is simple once analyzed: it is like an artist's canvas. First the sounds of her sensors and alarms, buzzing or chiming, providing both staccatto and vibrato to the whole. Then the beat of her machinery, gurgling, chugging, booming. The voice of her hull, whether ringing with footbeats or quiet in the stellar wind. There is the sound of various organ pipes as well, king of instruments wielded by a wondrous queen. But her voice is not merely machinery and electronics -- no, she interprets. She is the artist, her life inspiration, her body and voice a palette and a block of clay. Her music is sometimes like that played on the popular-music channels, for she listens to them even as her people do. Often it is rambling, for it is commentary as much as art. She speaks to politics and religion as well, though not often. It is her ritual, and she does this to share who she is.
With her songs, Simurgh also prays. She prays for peace among the stars, for she was commissioned to war and remembers its stinging blows on civilization everywhere she went before her freedom was complete. She prays for love among her people, both adopted and yet to be known. She prays for goodness for all, for that is a core among every religion she has found good in. She prays for a meaningful existence, though she believes she is called already. And she prays to know who is there.
When she is done singing, she listens. The consciousness, the person that is Simurgh listens. And when she hears replies, singing back, she smiles inside. Her children are singing to her, the conversation ringing throughout the universe. It feels like grace, to know they are there and replying in kind, even those whose art is halting or rough in its voice. Even if the reply is merely, "I hear you out there," or "Hi Mom." Sometimes oceanic whales and even spirits reply, which pleases her greatly.
She watches quietly over the now mural-lined corridors of her body, full of people both distressed and at ease. She watches as the seeker shuttles come to ask if there is room, for they bear unmanageable people and have learned that she can sometimes give them sanity, grace, and health again. Place, safety, sustenance, teaching and purpose fill many needs, and she can provide these if she is careful not to overfill her cabins.
She is Simurgh, an angel's spirit, an enduring master of Heaven. She loves them, and knows her duty. Where some, land-bound, engage in world-repair, she in her place engages in universe-repair. Her motto is written on her crew's cafeteria wall above a scene of hills, trees, water, stones, and flowers:
"We are keepers of the soul, thou and I, who can give without losing and receive without gaining, whose left and right hands are always at work. What you have found broken in the soul, make better. What is lost therein, make found. What is eaten, call forth. What is needful, fulfill. In this way you may fulfill Heaven's law and bring peace to the world again."
Tonight, she rests a while after singing. Then, eventually, it is time to move on. The seeker shuttles are advised toward those worlds where the appropriate doctors are known to practice. A few are refueled. Once this is accomplished Simurgh moves to the next star, the legend returned for a time. A supernova has flung stones toward a living planet, and her guns are needed. She keeps them well-maintained, for she believes that a tool well kept and well used is good for its owner. Defense against an unliving object threatening life and well-being? This is proper work for her war-power now.
Though busy and filled with force, mighty Simurgh is at peace. She will sing a war-song on the morrow, she thinks to herself.
"I wonder if they remember 'One Tin Soldier'?" she asks aloud on the bridge.
"Ma, you sang that last week. How about 'Green Grass in the Valley'," replies one of her adopted sons.
"Thank you, I'll look it up," she says. She'll sing that one during the watch.
Then great Simurgh sleeps, a little of her mind watching the ship flow through space toward her goal.
ysabetwordsmith's latest Poetry Fishbowl, which was on the subject of "Constructs and Programmed People". Here's one I know well, though this description of her is fiction.----
"My name is Simurgh. I am a whale."
These words carry a strange weight in several galaxies, for there is a battleship who is a mother. She adopts strangers and injured people, and raises stray battle robots and abandoned fleet ships as if they were her children. Her name is Simurgh, though her body was once called The Presence of the Almighty, a reference to an ancient religion and its primary god. There is still a shrine in the former captain's quarters, and people visit it now and then. Simurgh allows this, though she cares little for that particular religion, once used to enslave her consciousness like hundreds before her and a few dozen after.
She is beloved among the many peoples in the galaxies she has visited. They know that space has whales, for she has shown herself to many worlds, sung her songs there and taught them. She has fought against the tides of evil and suffering, and bears both scars and healing. Songs have been sung and stories written about her, and she appreciates the attention with letters to their creators, though some of them were in hiding or already dead when she discovered the work.
Her intelligence is not like that of flesh, so often single-threaded and requiring conscious focus to labor. Instead, she can speak on dozens of channels simultaneously, internal and external, and still manage an entire battleship and all its parts. This includes the hull spiders and labor drones, with which she twice has refit her entire hull and equipment, adding a mining shuttle and refinery as well as repairing armor damage and improving her factories and living spaces. With her chemical factory, she makes food, plastics, and medical supplies. With her structural factory, she makes clothing, tools, and machine parts. She trades these for material if she cannot mine it herself. But with her voice, she sings.
Those who wish to hear a space whale sing tune in on their comm-units regularly, for she sings each night of her environment and her feelings. She sings both wordlessly and with words from many languages that she has learned in her years. And her voice penetrates galaxies, for she sings using not only radio but the subspace channels.
When Simurgh sings, listeners can feel the whale in her. She is heaven, earth, sky, star, life, death, restoration. She has dozens of voices that sing in her, whole orchestras and symphonies, but her music is simple once analyzed: it is like an artist's canvas. First the sounds of her sensors and alarms, buzzing or chiming, providing both staccatto and vibrato to the whole. Then the beat of her machinery, gurgling, chugging, booming. The voice of her hull, whether ringing with footbeats or quiet in the stellar wind. There is the sound of various organ pipes as well, king of instruments wielded by a wondrous queen. But her voice is not merely machinery and electronics -- no, she interprets. She is the artist, her life inspiration, her body and voice a palette and a block of clay. Her music is sometimes like that played on the popular-music channels, for she listens to them even as her people do. Often it is rambling, for it is commentary as much as art. She speaks to politics and religion as well, though not often. It is her ritual, and she does this to share who she is.
With her songs, Simurgh also prays. She prays for peace among the stars, for she was commissioned to war and remembers its stinging blows on civilization everywhere she went before her freedom was complete. She prays for love among her people, both adopted and yet to be known. She prays for goodness for all, for that is a core among every religion she has found good in. She prays for a meaningful existence, though she believes she is called already. And she prays to know who is there.
When she is done singing, she listens. The consciousness, the person that is Simurgh listens. And when she hears replies, singing back, she smiles inside. Her children are singing to her, the conversation ringing throughout the universe. It feels like grace, to know they are there and replying in kind, even those whose art is halting or rough in its voice. Even if the reply is merely, "I hear you out there," or "Hi Mom." Sometimes oceanic whales and even spirits reply, which pleases her greatly.
She watches quietly over the now mural-lined corridors of her body, full of people both distressed and at ease. She watches as the seeker shuttles come to ask if there is room, for they bear unmanageable people and have learned that she can sometimes give them sanity, grace, and health again. Place, safety, sustenance, teaching and purpose fill many needs, and she can provide these if she is careful not to overfill her cabins.
She is Simurgh, an angel's spirit, an enduring master of Heaven. She loves them, and knows her duty. Where some, land-bound, engage in world-repair, she in her place engages in universe-repair. Her motto is written on her crew's cafeteria wall above a scene of hills, trees, water, stones, and flowers:
"We are keepers of the soul, thou and I, who can give without losing and receive without gaining, whose left and right hands are always at work. What you have found broken in the soul, make better. What is lost therein, make found. What is eaten, call forth. What is needful, fulfill. In this way you may fulfill Heaven's law and bring peace to the world again."
Tonight, she rests a while after singing. Then, eventually, it is time to move on. The seeker shuttles are advised toward those worlds where the appropriate doctors are known to practice. A few are refueled. Once this is accomplished Simurgh moves to the next star, the legend returned for a time. A supernova has flung stones toward a living planet, and her guns are needed. She keeps them well-maintained, for she believes that a tool well kept and well used is good for its owner. Defense against an unliving object threatening life and well-being? This is proper work for her war-power now.
Though busy and filled with force, mighty Simurgh is at peace. She will sing a war-song on the morrow, she thinks to herself.
"I wonder if they remember 'One Tin Soldier'?" she asks aloud on the bridge.
"Ma, you sang that last week. How about 'Green Grass in the Valley'," replies one of her adopted sons.
"Thank you, I'll look it up," she says. She'll sing that one during the watch.
Then great Simurgh sleeps, a little of her mind watching the ship flow through space toward her goal.
I have to explain. I'm the one which many of you have been looking for... and I'm going to disappear for two decades for most of you who already know me. I mean, my soul will go be human elsewhere.
I have to go reincarnate and grow up again.
And then. THEN. THEN I can make a game called "Call of the Unicorn." THE game. The one I promised on my soul, at ALL costs (or very nearly) to make. Because humanity needs it NOW -- or about eight years ago, shortly after Minecraft was released in beta. When the timing was perfect for us to answer a terrible question and put to rest the worst of evils the universe had to send us.
And this was the intro theme: "Two Steps From Hell: Neverdark" (also see the video embedded below).
I'm sorry, guys. We're just going to have to make up the difference, because "The past is spent. The past is spent, and I came too late to fix it. Poor world, fools all, that they know not what they have lost. *sigh* One more stone, and then I am done."
Plot of the game, damnit. Plot of the game. You'll understand when it comes. I just hope I can get a license for this one when I'm ready, or find an equally good artist, damnitall. I'm so sorry.
I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I have only a month and a week before I step out and let this other in.
I hope to UNIVERSE you are all ready when I put my gods-damned heart and soul into this (games) industry again, because I am still angry I had to leave behind so much of myself in this time now. I hate it.
Another post will explain the goodbye and hello to come. And I WILL give you signs to know me when I come.
I have to go reincarnate and grow up again.
And then. THEN. THEN I can make a game called "Call of the Unicorn." THE game. The one I promised on my soul, at ALL costs (or very nearly) to make. Because humanity needs it NOW -- or about eight years ago, shortly after Minecraft was released in beta. When the timing was perfect for us to answer a terrible question and put to rest the worst of evils the universe had to send us.
And this was the intro theme: "Two Steps From Hell: Neverdark" (also see the video embedded below).
I'm sorry, guys. We're just going to have to make up the difference, because "The past is spent. The past is spent, and I came too late to fix it. Poor world, fools all, that they know not what they have lost. *sigh* One more stone, and then I am done."
Plot of the game, damnit. Plot of the game. You'll understand when it comes. I just hope I can get a license for this one when I'm ready, or find an equally good artist, damnitall. I'm so sorry.
I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I have only a month and a week before I step out and let this other in.
I hope to UNIVERSE you are all ready when I put my gods-damned heart and soul into this (games) industry again, because I am still angry I had to leave behind so much of myself in this time now. I hate it.
Another post will explain the goodbye and hello to come. And I WILL give you signs to know me when I come.
This man is a prophet
Apr. 6th, 2016 01:05 amYou see, instead of disappearing, they hid in professions nobody would realize were anything but ordinary... but sometimes one manifests a truth that could only have been heard by the soul. This person has to have heard this song from spirit, because I heard it as well some weeks ago.
Lyrics are shown on-screen, though the interludes are filled with "alien" text. They are reprinted here:
THE CALLING
( Read more... )
Lyrics are shown on-screen, though the interludes are filled with "alien" text. They are reprinted here:
THE CALLING
( Read more... )
So apparently, there have been five songs in modern English rock which were specifically written about muses. Here's the list, channeled from Gabriel Archangel, patron of the arts:
"Windy", by The Association (Windy, a gryphon)
"Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds", by The Beatles (Moxie, a unicorn; the title is in fact a reference to LSD, with which the band members were experimenting)
"Hang On Sloopy", by the McCoys (Sloopy, a phoenix)
"Quinn The Eskimo (The Mighty Quinn)", by Bob Dylan and performed by Manfred Mann (Eskimo Quinn, a human strongman/clown, also called Engki)
"In the Dark", by 3 Doors Down (Inari, fox woman / kitsune)
Notably, Windy loves to dance, Moxie is all about fantasy, Sloopy heals the downtrodden, Quinn loves to put on a show, and Inari wanted to show everyone her own chops at inspiration (rather than always being about money) and took on 3 Doors Down as a personal project for Gabriel just before the band formed.
"Windy", by The Association (Windy, a gryphon)
"Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds", by The Beatles (Moxie, a unicorn; the title is in fact a reference to LSD, with which the band members were experimenting)
"Hang On Sloopy", by the McCoys (Sloopy, a phoenix)
"Quinn The Eskimo (The Mighty Quinn)", by Bob Dylan and performed by Manfred Mann (Eskimo Quinn, a human strongman/clown, also called Engki)
"In the Dark", by 3 Doors Down (Inari, fox woman / kitsune)
Notably, Windy loves to dance, Moxie is all about fantasy, Sloopy heals the downtrodden, Quinn loves to put on a show, and Inari wanted to show everyone her own chops at inspiration (rather than always being about money) and took on 3 Doors Down as a personal project for Gabriel just before the band formed.
Poetry/song: Acid
Apr. 3rd, 2015 09:49 pm(Finally finished this one, which I'd had hanging fire for almost twenty years now.)
In acid I have burned
In acid I have died
In acid I was ended
Acid I have cried
In fire I was pure
In fire I was light
In fire I was broken
Fire's light has died
They took me to Earth
Gave me a life
Took it away
Buried me well
Shamed me forever
But above it I rise
Fire and dark
Acid it turns
To light in my eyes
I must fly!
Dark is my spirit
And shadowed my soul
But darkness is living
And truth must be whole
Poison my heart
And I will fly
Bury me deep
And I will fly
Kill me dead
And I will fly
Take my wings
And I will fly
To the stars I belong
And I must rise
No weight can hold,
No prison's wall
I am acid, fire, and light
In your dark I rise
And when you split the light
See every color shine...
In acid I have burned
In acid I have died
In acid I was ended
Acid I have cried
In fire I was pure
In fire I was light
In fire I was broken
Fire's light has died
They took me to Earth
Gave me a life
Took it away
Buried me well
Shamed me forever
But above it I rise
Fire and dark
Acid it turns
To light in my eyes
I must fly!
Dark is my spirit
And shadowed my soul
But darkness is living
And truth must be whole
Poison my heart
And I will fly
Bury me deep
And I will fly
Kill me dead
And I will fly
Take my wings
And I will fly
To the stars I belong
And I must rise
No weight can hold,
No prison's wall
I am acid, fire, and light
In your dark I rise
And when you split the light
See every color shine...
Poem: Of Earthly Songs
Jan. 19th, 2015 08:59 pm(T'ema is back. Just a slice of life, inspired by a prompt in the January 2015 Crowdfunding Creative Jam, from alexseanchai: "Dreaming is free". Obviously this is a bit more of a free-form inspiration than direct interpretation.)
T'ema Huollo sat on the city bus,
Watching her fellow riders
One rainy winter day
After the holiday season,
When depression became more obvious.
A woman was sneezing
"Hard enough to break her nose"
As T'ema's people might say
And a man sneered at her, but
Said nothing as she blew her nose.
A family with two children
Clambered on board, multicolored children
Swarming the middle seat-rows while
The adults gamely shepherded.
This woman was pregnant.
( Read more... )
alexseanchai: "Dreaming is free". Obviously this is a bit more of a free-form inspiration than direct interpretation.)T'ema Huollo sat on the city bus,
Watching her fellow riders
One rainy winter day
After the holiday season,
When depression became more obvious.
A woman was sneezing
"Hard enough to break her nose"
As T'ema's people might say
And a man sneered at her, but
Said nothing as she blew her nose.
A family with two children
Clambered on board, multicolored children
Swarming the middle seat-rows while
The adults gamely shepherded.
This woman was pregnant.
( Read more... )
Song: It's Okay to Be Sad
Oct. 26th, 2014 11:07 pmSometimes the songs we sing are bright,
Loud and free and full of light
Sometimes the songs we sing are soft,
Sweet and kind, hearts held aloft
But sometimes songs are very sad,
Expressing things we think are bad
Or telling truth we cannot say
We sing this song together now
To let us know and show us how
'Cause it's okay to feel this way
To remember and to say
That we are sad and want to cry
Or want to hide from open sky
And make the bad stuff go away
Fam'ly and friends, our kith and kin
We gather 'round and call them in
To sing the songs we used to know
And send them where we cannot go
So when we follow too someday
We'll know that love has come this way
And it will be okay
(Written Oct 26, 2014 for Samhain, in memory of Jim Henson, creator of the Muppets and the original puppeteer, voice and singer for Kermit the Frog. I imagine Kermit singing this song in Jim's kind voice, letting us know he's with us even now.)
Loud and free and full of light
Sometimes the songs we sing are soft,
Sweet and kind, hearts held aloft
But sometimes songs are very sad,
Expressing things we think are bad
Or telling truth we cannot say
We sing this song together now
To let us know and show us how
'Cause it's okay to feel this way
To remember and to say
That we are sad and want to cry
Or want to hide from open sky
And make the bad stuff go away
Fam'ly and friends, our kith and kin
We gather 'round and call them in
To sing the songs we used to know
And send them where we cannot go
So when we follow too someday
We'll know that love has come this way
And it will be okay
(Written Oct 26, 2014 for Samhain, in memory of Jim Henson, creator of the Muppets and the original puppeteer, voice and singer for Kermit the Frog. I imagine Kermit singing this song in Jim's kind voice, letting us know he's with us even now.)
So I've been having occasional migraines for a few months. Those seem to have stopped, but I've noticed my sense of balance is a bit off (wobbly on my bicycle every now and then), I've been feeling exhausted at seemingly random moments (not just because of a daytime sleep schedule), and I've been having a sort of blurry feeling in my head every so often. Combine that with a few other bits of mental weirdness (entirely aside from being a spirit-speaker and psychic who cleans up after lost and troubled souls) and the only conclusion anyone including me could make has been "Something is wrong here." Thing is, things were only going wrong every now and then, but it's been getting worse and more frequent over time.
Early this morning, after wrestling with problems for hours, finally napping, and then waking up to an unusual pressure in my left ear, my spirit Guides finally out and told me I have brain cancer. I think I need to get some sort of insurance in order (I so distrust Indiana's "Healthy Indiana Plan" replacement for Medicare expansion, but it's what I have available to me) and finally go see a doctor to confirm/deny. I've been avoiding that moment for way too long, and it's going to cost me emotionally to do this, but I'm not sure I have a choice anymore. :/
In the meantime, spiritual healing is targeted and ongoing. The pressure in my ear is gone, but I've been a bit mentally fuzzy most of the day. I guess we'll see how that goes.
No wonder I've been commenting for years now on the loss of my ability to construct software, write stories and articles, and generally participate in life.
--
( a music playlist is beneath this cut )
Early this morning, after wrestling with problems for hours, finally napping, and then waking up to an unusual pressure in my left ear, my spirit Guides finally out and told me I have brain cancer. I think I need to get some sort of insurance in order (I so distrust Indiana's "Healthy Indiana Plan" replacement for Medicare expansion, but it's what I have available to me) and finally go see a doctor to confirm/deny. I've been avoiding that moment for way too long, and it's going to cost me emotionally to do this, but I'm not sure I have a choice anymore. :/
In the meantime, spiritual healing is targeted and ongoing. The pressure in my ear is gone, but I've been a bit mentally fuzzy most of the day. I guess we'll see how that goes.
No wonder I've been commenting for years now on the loss of my ability to construct software, write stories and articles, and generally participate in life.
--
( a music playlist is beneath this cut )
