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july 17, 2017 wclarkhudson absurdity, ambiguity, behavior, linear, ritual, spaces, wendy clark

Consider the characteristics or conditions of all the substance in your intrinsic perception, such as the entities which one can identify as a solid state or a liquid state, (or even a gaseous state), and you believe you know by the very nature of the “subject,” to be just what it is, because that truth is fundamental. Now, suppose these primary dimensions of your reality are permuted, a metamorphosis which transforms every element, transcending everything so that it is the not only opposite of what it may have once been perceived as but the same in it’s lack of form and no law of the universe has any law or harmony, (the gaseous factors would really be astounding) and everything is nothing, and all that is or is not, is a contradiction of the same problem.

The concrete is now the abstract.

The trivium is equal to the empty paradox.

The continuum is now part of absolute zero.

The phone buzzed and I saw two new messages. One was a tangible items requiring some thought and input from certain people involved.

The second message was clearly meant to test me although a immediate result was void of reason and consequence and was disguised emptiness. Support of an broken statement that was neither subjective or objective.

Alright, you lost me – I am off the trail of interest; you may kindly fuck off. I can shake off the pixelated perception you painted me. A blank canvass of nothing.

This cognitive action led to my next transitory side-effect which was after quickly reviewing the causal theory of epiphenomenalism (physical events have mental effects, but mental events have no effects of any kind) how very useless it was to philosophize at this time, how tired my mind was, then snip-snapping right on back to my strenuously draining brooding of the undetermined unknown and how that unknown was always about to increase in conscious life.

There are the places at which you are not, or perhaps where you would rather be, not be, won’t be, the list within the list within the list is infinite, but my point is that the location of where you are (or where you ain’t) is probably the most important place you could ever be. Where you’re not is: any, some, or everywhere you could be, certainly, of course when you have but a critical amount of “time” remaining to reconsider every place where you ever were which led me to this last circumstance in which I was currently entangled, where I was not was anywhere but where I was, at a condition labeled as the end of one’s lifetime; this is the place where you last were, and your mind works itself backwards, instinctively and recklessly, and flashes these excruciating images, words, colors, lines and limits, gaps and speculation, theories, people, pets, regrets, media, motions, accidents, mistakes, recoveries, tastes, dreams, nightmares, mischief, games, fame, humiliation, embarrassment, acceptance, awards, rewards, faith, apathy, remorse, anxiety, true faith, true love, true sex, true blueness of the purest skies, waters, and eyes; good fortune, good graces, all those artistic creations….

The worst part was always there: The realization of having to contemplate how anything could be even worse than the worst realization you can contemplate. To me it was feeling that I was departing without saying goodbye; abruptly leaving the party early, sneaking out irresponsibly and silently, the one who didn’t even say, “later on,” and never came back.

During these mangled, mingled conjunctions of deliberation, I disappeared.

Global News - March - June 2008

Today is the first day of the rest of your series of other first days of your life. You always can be uncertain whether or not you have this particular day to begin again. You always may be certain that you will always be uncertain. You start planning immediately; you have an unmeasured time allotted for this interpretation of the state of your fixation. You sit in front of whatever clever type of technology or paper or sticky-note system which provides you with the encouragement to begin your plan. But after a few scribbles and a change in barometric pressure, you decide that you have accomplished a decent amount of planning, just by the act of starting to think about planning. Then you walk into your backyard to see if there is enough gas in the lawn mower to do a few rows, and your phone rings. Hello? The silence on the other end of your line is intolerable, so you utter a short sequence of charming un-thank yous and you realize that you have to call your friend in Chicago who is sick and could be dying; meanwhile your guitar looks like it needs to be played. You cant figure out a chord, so you pick up the remote but nothing is on except your loves favorite show, which you cant watch be cause this is the first day of the rest of your year, and so you think about ordering a pizza but your debit card is downstairs and the cat just puked and the ice has already melted in your class.Hello?You walk around in circles until you decide its not worth it and maybe the tag phrase should be today is the last day of your life but that seems psychologically unhealthy and you need to sleep it off. Any challenges you open your sleepy eyes to are self-imposed. For instance, you must own your own mind. You cant always control it, but you have got to own it. You have to obey or disobey its compulsions, and you have to accept its troubles and randomizations. You cant organize it, but you can know the danger of its capacity to scramble and ramble. You can tell yourself many things you want to believe, but unless you compromise with it, your intentions wont be articulated as obligations. You have to be consistent, impressionistic, reasonable, adjustable, and playful. No one can think for oneself without wandering about some madness, and at times madness may be the purpose, the map, the ambiguity that makes all challenges the exact electricity which makes your minds universe. So! Before you retrace your steps, either find the nearest exit or forgive yourself for thinking that you are completely capable of withstanding any retrospection. We all have a certain level of faith and love for ourselves, but we hesitate to remember (time after time) that our minds love is unrequited at times. I found myself today. I found myself yesterday. Dont worry about how or where or why. You need to worry about yourself. I am in good standing with myself. I dont know how you see me, but I need you to look at yourself instead of me. I am lost and found, and the circle will never be unbroken. Ask yourself questions; but believe nothing you say is universal truth. Again, I dont know how you see me, I only see what I ask of you to see me as, and I ask you to see me without judgment, without pity, without expectations; I will in turn see you just as I see myself. I will see a conjunction of suggestion, a highway overlooking the inexactness which I gander and gather, and I will speak no evil, see no evil, nor hear no evil. I will tell myself to have an open mind, an unspoken heart, and a thousand broken souls unnerving me at every moment I let myself go. I will obey and deceive while I coincide and conflict. I will not hurt you any more or less unless I am hurting. But, thats me. I will listen, confide, retreat, capture, release, stalk, haunt, freak, steal, believe, deny, accuse, refuse, abuse, lose, win, practice, preach, reach, storm, mourn, shock, fall, get up, fall again, risk, gamble, promise, forget, relive, regret, write, ask, answer, explain, walk away, run away, stumble back, call, hang up, create, criticize, speculate, spit it out, move, stay, fear, hope, play, work, tumble, crumble, relive, revive, listen, whisper, break, shake, ache, take, fake, love, shove, test, quiz, examine, graduate, imitate, cringe, cry, die, believe, remind, reconsider, reconsider, reconsider, reconsider, prove, contend, mend, bend, reason, rationalize, agonize, plead, please, smile, agree, follow, lead, rock, roll, and rest. I will be on my own side of my mind, the inside of whats truly only mine, and I will have to be patient until you find me there: for you and I will celebrate your own story.
What are you going to do to make yourself feel real?

Then sometimes the stories tell them selves much faster than you can vpssibly imagine, which is where the story begins. The story begins somewhere near the middle because soetings got to be happening in order for a story to come in context of the converstation; what I mean is that I think you must have some reason to tell a story – a tal – an anecdote, unless you just are plain bored anyway, but my story starts because the time has come when I realized I had one to tell. Yeah, of course I have had many, just like we all have our stories, but this was one that made it even worthwhile to write. Fact is that I love to write but not much inspires me these days to do the actual deed, I write in my notebook and it never seems to get typed therefore it is never really out there, except in a song or twenty, but any how, I would like to explain things in a way that aren’t too abstract, so please stop if you get lost in my balderdash, if you can. But you can’t, so joke’s on you, I spose.
Shakespeare in my lap under my blueish lighted lamp, I was on Act Two of The Tempest, trying to not only just read Shakespeare, but tying to enjoy it. This was a ritual of mine – one of many – I had these rituals that I practiced because I philosophized (being the philosopher who I was) that this was the delivery which would demand my sense of learning to enjoy the elements of existence which would make me virtuous, a sultan, a reason for all to see that I have an itinerary, and most of all a method.
I have a ritual. I was three days a college graduate, after five and a half years of university life, two majors and two minors (balance is important to me), I am able to write in present tense, say that I have been rigidly educated, and have my whole life ahead of me.So, I write this as I say to you and the world, I am a philosopher. I ake this decision because I strode off into the world just like that, the tentionally, and y screen door slammed shut, or whacked itself hard and the cat eaowed and I headed uptowrd the outside akk near campus in my new converse, staring down at the unkept sidewalk, grateful that that type of nmaintenance didn’t bother me. I didn’t look up and the sidewalk grooves movd beneath me at exceedingly faster lines of distance, which made me realize the physics of it all – but of course, as a philosopher, it may have mattered more or less, but that made me clearly apathetic philosopher, one who hasn’t determined their actual “catergory” or “trade” or whatever; all I knew is that I wanted to study Ritual. What in the hell does that mean?I lifted my head as I approached Tennessee Street and some kids in a four door navy Taurus waved and yelled my name. I waved back, and couldn’t figure out who they were. I am not forshadowing here so don’t det any ideas. Let me do the thinking. I have been practicing.The coffee shop steps had been freshly painted and I had to go in there“why you look so down?’ peaches asked“Not”“No serious-like – yer always lookin at the ground.”“I-“ I looked at the ceiling and laughed at the irony of the situration “Look at the ceiling, Peaches, the disgust, the mold, the sigarrette-“She made an indistinct snort and said, “People are talking, you know, you just have to look at more than them nice converse and sidewalks and cats and stuff. It’s a shame we never see your eyes.”“Where’s my coffee?” I knew I didn’t order any. “Do you just want some “grounds””, she laughed as she swayed away to some older chap, who looked like my Modern Lit professor.“And what is a Ritual, anyway?”The huming of the ceiling fans and the odor of the coffee and the abience of the conversation found yself out the door and back up the hill, using my eyesight properly, staring ahead, then at the cloudless sky.How dull, thought I.How dull is this?
I wander to the old campus used book store, I looked up at the sign and saw that this old shack actually had a genuine name, it was more than the white brick shop that smelled like the 70s and was too dark to read on the worn read leather couches.

Generation Ex. - An eXample of a Degeneration?

by Wendy Clark Hudson 2008

The connotations of the rarely used 24th letter of our English alphabet termed “X,” are often of a sinister and negative suggestive implication, and even vulgar in some circumstances (i.e., “XXX”); this “X” generally tends not to represent any substance of a positive nature.

I am equally as responsible as the rest of you all for these philosophical bones and skeletons I harbor - as our experience relates to the time period in which we were harvested; a generation of infants which some miserable joker/generational researcher coined “Generation X.” Generation Xers (an individual is referred to as an Xer if he or she was were born roughly between 1959 and 1978) are now getting to fully realize their full potential.

Back in the early 90’s, my Xer college friends and I pondered these societal labels and concluded that these categorizations were for the generations who preceded us. We decided that we were not going to follow in those old-fashioned, grotesque and worn-out foot steps. Our plan of attack? Our stance? We took a stand by doing nothing. Yet as the old proverbial ball bounces down the avenue of apathy, we fell for anything. We were very aware of our affectionate apathy. We were dreamers - and not the only ones, as the late comedian Bill Hicks told us. We were just like everyone else, except we were eleven years old when we were informed that we would not have social security when we retired. Our gratitude cannot be contained. Neither can our sarcasm.

Apathy. At one time, this was something we could actually stand for; across those ambiguous Elysian fields we stumbled and shouted to the Baby Boomers, Baby Busters, and whoever would lend us an ear, “We stand for APATHY!” Of course, the laziness we exuded while we were still in the cradle. But now we are grownups and we can blame Generation Y for not coming to our rescue - although we could blame Douglas Coupland (author of “Generation X”, if we could get through that shockingly dull portrait of our fellow scene members…

So, my fellow generation Xers, now that you have looked up the meaning of your life according to Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Generation_X, I would like to share with you why you let yourselves get out of touch with your third eye. This is an eXample of therapeutic eXistential eXit. And after all we haven’t been through, maybe it’s time we took some responsibility.

Remember our 80’s punk band, X? Remember the synthetic drug X? We thought it was cool to be an Xer back in our respective universities, but so did the other 50% or more of our good friends who were kicked out or lost their scholarships as a result our BIG philosophic musing, the one that our professors shrugged at: the question we posed - why some mean-ass expert would suggest that we were lazy-X-asses in the first place, and without bothering to make eye contact, he or she would semi-answer, “So prove them wrong, then.” Hm. We didn’t, did we? How didn’t we? Well, to begin with, we sure as hell didn’t “Rock the Vote” because, mostly, MTV stopped broadcasting music videos during the day so we were pissed, of course, as you can see, we got out there and did something about THAT, too. Yes, we sure as hell took care of that last couple of presidential elections so that we would maintain some some rights and not have to envision a country where you can’t even smoke in a goddamn bar, we saw to it that our generation would see marijuana legalized nationwide - at LEAST for medical purposes (remember all those rallies you hollered and swore that you would make a difference, and you educated your parents and friends about the economic benefits of hemp), you also depended on the fact that you would have a job like your parents because you have a Bachelor or Master’s degree, plus creative integrity and abstract reasoning skills - mainly because the Arts were once taught at every public school in our little nation, and we thought that racism and sexism were ridiculous concepts of our parents generation, and we didn’t touch our parents guns, we smoked and drank by the lake and had bonfires and talked about religion and philosophy, and we read and created stuff like Google and now we are bankrupt, our foreclosure rate is almost impressive, we forgot to vote and let our forefathers dictate a Constitution and Bill of Rights which are non-applicable as technology was not yet invented…

We are discouraged and discouraging. I don’t have a job. What’s an X to do?

Is there a mathematical equation like x=y+”bother”?

We could have it much worse, though. That Generation Y is totally out of control.
http://www.geocities.com/ihategenx/GenY.html
–
wendy clark (hudson)
www.tequilamockingbirdmusic.com

Thought Disorder Awareness Campaign - by wc hudson

An abstract concerning the alarming disorder which is wrecking humanity/civilization/economy/aliens.

Ah, the discomforts of the last of the true spirits; the lack of triumph surrounding the bus pulling out of the San Francisco Mental-Plex, the sounds of the hysteria fading and the scent of damp dirt and dank cigars feel like sunlight in your ears; you fold your letter you wrote to your mother, the one you didn't send to her because she wouldn't have taken the news of your early release as a good thing, you rip up the yellow legal paper she will never see and you think about eating it, even though it wouldn't taste as good as the garlic chicken and powdered toast you were still digesting from supper that evening, but you decide to go ahead and you slowly chew all sixteen pages of it, you hope you will digest these words and then salvation shall surface.

I stopped before I started to think about it again and I made myself a big bowl of spagetti and tried to locate the remote control so I could watch the new episode of "House" and I didn't find it. So I started to think about it again. I made of list of what could happen if and when I couldn't stop thinking about it. For an instance I recognized that nothing was ever the same and this kept happening over and over and over and over and over and under and over and the thoughts would never actually stop until my brain lost it's energy and I died - though even that was a theory because many religious people would argue that there is life after death, which made me think that, damn! I needed to get some sleep. My eyes were dry and saw the dreary droplets of hope and love and then I thought about steam and vapor, solids, liquids, gas, wash, rinse, repent. My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the bored... I laughed out loud and wondered why I was standing in a shallow pool of mud rather than a deep one, metaphysically corrupt and meta contained in this slingshot I called my sanity. I was not as deprived of intellect as most everyone who got in my narrow passageway to getting through the day, but I couldn't grasp if I was better off or not. Then I decided not to decide.

I stood in that spot, undecided and undeciding until I had to make a decision or something. I blinked hard, I slammed my eyes down and it hurt, and I decided to cry.

Everything I say comes back to taunt me. It doesn't -haunt- me; haunting would be the verb I would use if I intended to say that there was another force behind it; meaning that one cannot haunt oneself but may surely taunt oneself - in word, thought, and deed; everything I say (if even in my own internal monologue - "Internal monologue?! She is crazy!" dialogue taken in context from "Scrubs") is everything I imagine I am, and everything I think is impossible to say, which leads me to actually blame my old college roommate whom I shall call "Justin Tochber" for his own protection - but one night while we were being clever geniuses in his dorm room, two short doors from mine at the notorious Cash Hall at FSU, JT told me of an amazing way he had learned to become so darn smart (and he was just that); he told me that a mentor of his had asked him to try an exercise to increase his awareness and become a master of all that is brilliant - and this I will share with you, reader, but I must warn you that I may:
A. Be unable to explain it enough for you to actually be a student of this meta-mind play
B. Find something cooler to metagrobolize about while I get bored trying to explain it without actually being in human contact with you
C. Taunt myself for thinking that this was something I needed to write about and thus involve other people - shaming and humiliating my self
D. Laugh at you for being stupid enough to try this for several days and forget that you had a choice to ignore this exercise
E. Laugh at you for thinking that this is a stupid exercise
F. Forget what I was going to say here. Damn it.

Here is your mission if you choose to accept it, grasshoppers of the cyber world:
It's simple: close your eyes (or leave them open and blink naturally, I don't really care), then do this with your mind - Think about three separate phenomena at the same time. Then keep doing that all the time, for as long as you can; change ideas if one has run its course, but trade it with another one of equal or better value. Continue doing this while you are conversating, working, studying, driving, flying a helicopter, getting eaten by a shark or a panther, having intimate relations, sleeping, and especially when you are trying not to think about three ideas subsequently.

So I beg the question, does this mean I have thought disorder? Where did I put the receipt and how am I going to find it when I get home? What can I do to get these students I teach to pass the CSAP?

How where do butterflies sleep at night?

Choices are all in your imagination. As Ellis so weirdly wrecked another part of my and many other tender highly intelligent college kids lives when we read past the end of "American Psycho," the words that finally proved that nothing was anything that it seemed except to oneself - This is not an exit.

But seriously, please do not exercise reading that book. If you already have, I would rather not discuss it.

(The author is mildly concerned about you. Please practice safe thinking and encourage others to do the same. The author would also like to make sure you know that this is an exercise in writing random thoughts as a release and as a target for the bullies as well as the "readers" who don't understand abstract thinking and see it as something to shake their fat ugly head at. The author would recommend that some individuals can't enjoy another's love of stream of consiousness and asks that they please not write me any more emails threatening me about making them think to hard thus paralyzing their self-denial of the disorder forementioned. I would like to also aplologize for offending and being offended. Or offensive. Please email me your disordered thoughts so I may have fun. Please use a dictionary when defining definitions.) - Disclaimer: I unclaim all disclaimers.)

Photos of 2012ish

Fri 16 Feb 2018

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111

Sat 01 Apr 2017

"I was hoping someone would explain it to me." I expected much less. And as the old adage goes, what you expect of someone or something, is what you'll get.

Every day is my lucky day.

Well we played a gig outside the big Crush game to a huge crowd of people who really seemed interested, but it turns out that they didn't speak English.

Cuckoo

Fri 16 Dec 2016

The revolt

Wed 06 Jan 2016

The revolt lasted no time at all, but I was doubtful that it would have no lasting impact. The strays would keep growing older and the mistakes would never see the learned; we were colorless and plentiful, and we slept because our eyes were weary of the sun; you remembered me until the day you died, then I didn't feel your love. That was what the projection of the impact provided, and I know the combined words sought a way to paper and some were never useful to others.

Authors are writers who finish their works - so I was forcefully semi-educated by one influential non-informant this past week, so I packed up my creativity and self-inflicted phrases into a story - one authored and had the parts which would take that plot and stamp it a "piece."

Certain that I would quickly vocabularize my opinion clearly for lack of silence due to a formula of ideas succeeded by psychological capture.

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Acoustic Evening with Kate LeRoux and Wendy Clark 2/28

Wed 18 Feb 2015

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This was in the drafts. This is the gallery of misfit photos.

Fri 03 Oct 2014

Hark!

Sun 18 May 2014

Wendy Clark Band (formally Tequila Mockingbird) at the Little Bear Saloon

Wed 24 Jul 2013

Wendy Clark Band (formally Tequila Mockingbird)

Thursday, July 25, Wendy and the gang will be performing at one of the best live entertainment venues in the Colorado Rockies, at the legendary LITTLE BEAR SALOON at 7pm.

Little Bear Saloon

28075 Highway 74

Evergreen, CO 80439

Map: http://goo.gl/maps/Hg1Sn

The cast will include: Wendy, Rob, Oscar Pop PLUS...

-> Local axe slinger extraordinare

http://bit.ly/Greg-Foster

-> Rocking the 5-string low end

http://bit.ly/Rhett-Haney

Little Bear online:

http://www.littlebearsaloon.com

https://www.facebook.com/littlebearsaloon

21+ ID Req - $4

And thanks for your support as always!

Cheers!

Keep up with us at our new blog: http://wendyclarkblog.wordpress.com

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Dust Yourself Off. - Motivational Video Therapy with Wendy Clark

Wed 03 Jul 2013

Email newsletters for bands at ReverbNation.com

Cool With Colfax with Tequila Mockingbird, Denver

Wed 02 Jan 2013

Happy New Year! New show for 2013 with our comrades!

Scene Wars Collective and Tequila Mockingbird LLC present:
COOL WITH COLFAX

Lineup:

I'm A Boy
https://www.facebook.com/imaboyrock

Tequila Mockingbird https://www.facebook.com/tequilamockingbirdmusic

The Gones
http://www.reverbnation.com/thegones

Champagne Charlie
https://www.facebook.com/champagnecharliemusic

Hosted by the lovely and talented Betsy Lay.

The Pit Stop is a fun and lively pub with two free parking lots adjacent to the building. They have a friendly staff and an outside smoking partio. It's a fun place!

Hosted by Betsy Lay
7 PM
21+
5$ admission

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Happy 2013 and My Resolutions and such

Tue 01 Jan 2013

2012 was no friend of mine with exceptions, of course, many but I didn't see any hope for anyone. I saved a life and played with my band at The Taste of Colorado and The Hard Rock, I sold out a ton of Chris Daniel's shows, but these things carried a price tag of my own self-destructive mind and I had multiple, non-stop panick attacks and lost faith in the music business a time or two, and considered ways to make up for my past and my choices of trust and people who are not who you thought they were, and they were a part of you.

Got an iPhone 4s and a computer from the boss.

Got myself in trouble with some people who don't like me - was informed I was now in a higher social status of a person who has their own gaggle of "Haters". Still not fond of the gun laws due to scary dudes and a chick or two I let myself get sabotaged by. Actions and non actions. I had my share of them.

Looking ahead.

Focus even when you want to do anything but that. Motivation is easy if you do it by habit. Elevate this Panic Problem by keeping busy and out of trouble with generally what your mind lets itself keep telling itself to do something. Open mouth, solve problem. Wake up and listen. I resolve to totally change my life. I will blog about it daily. That has to be the ritual to rid myself of the anxiety.

Kids, it is still there amidst any medication. It is genetic. It is terrible if you were me for the past year or so.

But I have it all now - except my own wealth or steady job. But find me a boss who pays me what I'm worth - and the usual demise was the result of my termination. Then I ran out of my unemployment insurance. I mean, come on! I was depressed.

Today I got my meds and they are a bit difficult to get used to. I will be taking them like I have a 8-5 job starting Friday. Tonight may last forever. Bloody hell. But I am missing my family again, thinking about how much we may have if everyone stays healthy and sees each other more often. Seems easy except for the distance to Spain and money and babies.

After Dad's cancer amd I instinct to people's very ritualistic structure in their daily swagger through the day, casually, As long as he stays well, I will resollve to live up to the expectations / perceptions that I see in other people's eyes and expect nothing but what I ask for, and take nothing but what I need.

I will be in my LiveJournal leaning about my prior adventures.

If this feeds to my Wordpress, someone please advise.

Here's to life in the future. Welcome to 2013.

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Chris Daniels and Friends CD Release Party for Better Days

Sun 01 Jul 2012

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Tequila Mockingbird and Friends @ The Toad Tavern FRI 1/20

Sun 15 Jan 2012

Tequila Mockingbird flies South to Littleton to The Toad Tavern for a 9pm set of their trademark 120-proof Whiskey Roots Rock - high-energy, catchy, sarcastic, upbeat, and genre-bending original music.

The lineup includes awesome local bands featuring some soul, some country, some powerpop, and some blues, mixed with a few covers.

Music starts at 7pm!

Here's the lineup:

JJ & the Kharma

Gary Bragg

Tequila Mockingbird

I'm a Boy

The Sonic Archers

21+ ID Req

Tickets are $6/$4 with discount ticket(s).

Discount tickets can be printed out here: http://bit.ly/toadtaverntix

For some dizzle-dazzle, please visit our E-Flyer: http://bit.ly/tequilatoad01-20-2010

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Tequila Mockingbird "Mostly Unplugged" Acoustic Show at the Paris Wine Bar 11/23

Fri 11 Nov 2011

Tequila Mockingbird "Mostly Unplugged" Acoustic Show at the Paris 11/23

We will be performing a sophisticated concoction of acoustic originals at our "Mostly Unplugged" Acoustic Show at The Paris Wine Bar in downtown Denver. No Cover charge!

8:30pm - JJ & the Kharma

9:30pm - 12am - Tequila Mockingbird

1549 Platte St, Denver, CO 80202

8:30pm 21+ NO COVER

http://www.parisontheplattecafeandbar.com/bar/

http://tequilamockingbirdmusic.com/

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Tequila Mockingbird "Catching On" at The Toad Tavern 9/16/11

Wed 05 Oct 2011

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Ambiguity and Madness

Thu 02 Jul 2009

...above and beyond the world and it's webs and nets global cyber spaces and intricate algorithmic....

Warning:
If you don't have to read every sentence once or twice, this story is not meeting the style I am rendering.

No, I never, never put much thought nor gained any peace of mind in the lline whriten Goethe, "Alles nhae werde ferry," or everything near becomes distant. He was speaking of twilight and blindness.
No, I never put much thought into ambiguity because I feared madness.

I removed myself from the situation at hand. I took inventory of the moment. I wondered if the moment took inventory of me.

Tilly Bryce was riding her moped down Williams Street on the sidewalk when I began to get anxious. She was surely supposed to ride on the street, but I heard from her ex-beau, Stev, while we were sipping Starbucks we had found in a tray on the top of an Oldsmobile in the Chevron dealership lot, that Tilly had recently been convicted of her third DUI and was not to operate a moter vehicle until some certain amount of time, but she did not consider many laws to apply to her, especially since her family was wealthier than someone like me had any idea to try to describe - even to myself - so I just nodded my head and told Stev that she was going to go to jail.

Today went well. The events of the day went well in terms of the turnpike to hell was as smooth as could be expect imagined like a perfect trainwreck.

The morning sushine was our timebomb and we revolted as the rays were in demand, regardless of what has happened so much sooner or later.

The revolt, on the other side (so to speak), lasted no time at all, but I was doubtful of the fact that it had no lasting impact. The strays would keep growing older and the mistakes never would see the leaned; we were all colorless and plentiful, and we slept because our eyes were of the sun, you remembered me until the day you died, then I didn't feel your love. That was projection of the impact that was and I knew the combined words were sought by some and were never useful to others.
Authors are writers who finish their works - so I was semi-educated by a few by some influential non-informant this past week and so I packed up my creativity the nself-inflicted a story line - I was an author and had the parts which would take the plot and stamp it as a "piece."

Okay, I said, "I can take a joke." I began to shuffle down the opposite direction of the atrium corridor and I began to focus on a new plot, but I needed a new persona first, then the intangible and it's obscurities would be a natural consequence.

In an effort to prove the power of the meaning of words, I will launch my latest metaphysical awareness campaign: Speaking in one-word sentences. And as I waited for my mom to pick me up from school I was reading an essay written by a Hawaiian clown who used to teach French Revolutionary Architecture but decided to write in order to teach and he wrote well for a clown I suppose - as I waited the notion struck me between the lines that this constant quest to transcend the shallow traditional surface of society and judgment, I was not operating inside the function of my mission to master world domination.

The second time I was administered mouth-to-mouth recsessitation was the second time it wasn't necessary, and was the event that spurred me to embark immediately to see a specialist.

I always thought of myself as the dangerous type - mentally, obviously.

But it's like all the times I thought too much about the aforementioned equations. A house and a home are not going to solve my problems. I don't have any problems, and surely I don't need a house and a home to prove that I need something else to think about.

2 Comments

Mad Liberations

Sat 28 Feb 2009

Mad?

I stepped out of the Mad Libs factory and into oncoming ___________ (plural nouns).

My ________ (insulting insult with italics) cell phone ______________ (past tense verb) and my new _____________________ (adjective) began to _______________________ (verb) and _________________ (boy's name) didn't care which _____________________ (Proper Noun) the road took because we had a lot of _____________________ (type of beer) and even more ______________________ (another type of substance). We pulled the car over because _____________ (first name of a Tequila Mockingbird member) was vomiting like a __________________ (type of personality disorder.

2 Comments

For those about to rock...

Thu 16 Oct 2008

This isn't a test. This is it. Good luck, losers; good luck, winners. The gun will fire - then you haul ass to the finish line. If you finish first, you are the fastest. If you finish second - well, take a wild guess.

3 Comments

Mad?

Tue 22 Jul 2008

I stepped out of the Mad Libs factory and into oncoming ___________ (plural nouns).

My ________ (insulting insult with italics) cell phone ______________ (past tense verb) and my new _____________________ (adjective) began to _______________________ (verb) and _________________ (boy's name) didn't care which _____________________ (Proper Noun) the road took because we had a lot of _____________________ (type of beer) and even more ______________________ (another type of substance). We pulled the car over because _____________ (first name of a Tequila Mockingbird member) was vomiting like a __________________ (type of personality disorder.

0 Comments

I had broadcast my theory on my weekly podcast last night for the last time - this was the last episode on what I was certain my friends, as scarcely as they knew what I was trying to promote nor did they bother to feign any interest or feedback at all, they were friends of mine because I was able to tolerate them and we snacked on the same types of carbs and were able to ignore our apathy and our personal beliefs and we never thought much about who we were.

I certainly was able to fool them, like all the others and brothers and their mothers - for I was an imposter. It hurt some ways to be an imposter, and it hurt to know that they were so ragile and of average IQ that they didn't intellectualize a goddamn insight they didn't have - it hurt AND yet gave me time to be my own best friend and I minded my mind happily. But I knew where to research and I had resources.

http://www.dialogical.net/psychology/index.html

http://wclarkhudson.wordpress.com/page/5/

(Photo of Buck E. Banzai)

The snap of the postcard exiting my fingertips made you jump a little. I saw it and I laughed at you, but I wasn't courteous.

I suppose you would have ripped that postcard into shreds if it hadn't been me. But something just clicks whenever you rip an image of yourself to shreds. That's a for sure warning sign of a red flag.

It's all passive sentences, passive aggression, and passive-attention disorders. There is no end and there is no way out. You are not the subject of the sentence.

Riddles, Puzzles, and Grammar

The next clue is Politics.

Choose one word out of the following; use this word in every sentence you say in at all conversation today (or tomorrow), then gauge whether you believe that words may make people suspicious and fragile and shameful.

Perhaps the specifics of words aren't always the general meanings you wish to obfuscate, but your heart has not been as lucky as usual, and your refuge has not been a deception - as much as, say, a paradise.

Here are your choices:

meandering
contraband
asshole
lobotomy
self-sufficient
opium
elastic
tumbleweed
nonchalant
essence
composure

Remember, no one but you can prevent events.

My advice is to advise everyone to take the scientific approach to all problems, then speak of all solutions as "theories."

Here are some random guidelines:

be sure to speak using bullet points
always pronounce silent letters - why waste them?
don't ever change the subject - transitional conversation is vital to human communication
make up words when you can't think of one you want to say
if someone uses the word "smile," interrupt them and demand that they use the word "grin" - tell them how offensive the" s-word" is and then stare at their bellybutton area
look at your watch every time someone makes eye-contact with you
don't be fooled by yourself
don't fool around by yourself
don't let them tell you anything - be sure to tell them you don't believe anything you hear
smile and stare at someone's forehead when they are speaking to you
encourage people to be responsible for their words and behaviour
challenge people to sentence diagramming when you feel intimidated
clap your hands when you speak
clap your hands when ever someone blinks
wash, rinse, repeat
only sigh when it isn't funny
sigh between bites of food when you are eating breakfast
sigh before you say anything (although this will lead to your own personal hell)
pronounce "sigh" as it was intended to be said: sss-eye-gah-hah
wash your hair one strand at a time
don't major in English unless you can sacrifice your soul to your mind

I don’t remember anything. If for some instant, I thought I had treaded upon a memory, I would clutch it so deeply I would lose it quickly. The glimpse of truth would spit itself right out of my head and leave without a trace. I woke up like a lost kitten every day and my body would convulse with stereotypical horror, and I would try to get up only to crash on the floor day after day.

It smells like something is on fire around my house today.

Colorado music documentary premiere news

Posted 01/25/2008 at 12:00 PM by eshiveley

Yesterday I heard from the director of a film festival in Connecticut who wants to premiere "everyone but you" (a documentary I just finished).

The movie has been submitted cold to two festivals, and the directors of both festivals have called to give a tentative acceptance (nothing's definite for a week or two).

I'm incredibly happy because if you're an unknown, first-time filmmaker and you get a two-hour documentary into any prominent festival, that's a REAL good deal. So I've been learning anyway.

The following bands ended up in the movie (either their music or an appearance):

Tequila Mockingbird, Victoria Woodworth, Halden Wofford & the Hi-Beams, Andy Ard, Double Down, Nora Heffernan, DeVotchKa, Mannequin Makeout, Jerry Popiel, Black Greg, Robert Eldridge, Hit & Run Bluegrass

Anyhoo, I'm just excited and needed to share. Thanks.

Time Capsules (and Other Bad Drugs)

I knew how long the ride would be

because I saw it all on the TV

The shots were weak the wine was strong

The car was slow and the ride was long

The car was slow and I didn't know

How the weeks went by so long and 'lo

How the time made weekdays ebb and flow

And nothing came-

And nothing go.

The days were long the wine was weak

The week was slow the days were wine

I saw it all on the TV and I knew how boring I might be

But I knew wasn't only me

The shots, the ride, the fragility.

How long, how long the ride would be.

Before I received that phone call from the circus, I had already been informed, seconds earlier, that I was exceptionally talented (or in Burke’s meta-terminology, “overly-advantaged” at speed-writing. More over, constructing clear and concise sentences, paragraphs, stories, free from grammatical or mechanical spelling, meaning, context or any type of structure or content errors and was virtually revision unnecessary after writing one draft of any piece of writing- from the technical to the sestina to the AP style.

“What a contradiction,” I began but was abruptly silenced.

“I wasn’t even thinking about the implications of my absent responses to Nick’s email; I fumbled though a few words but I just couldn’t muster the fuel to bower them.

What is your excuse?

Tact: (noun) a keen sense of what to do or say, to keep good relations with others.

And I lost nothing today.

After reading John Dewey.....

I notice a mahogany scent, pleasant and pleasing, and I remind myself to assert my energy forth behind the shades of the autumn semi-sunlight. The evening falls and twilight breaks even, dealing me that ambiguous forgetfulness of my inadvertent existence; how often the blur of fantasy and judgment of my own character ultimately punctures all possibilities.

If we are to maintain hope in the wake of our individual personal and philosophic crises, perhaps we must consider the fortresses of conscious choice that we build to protect ourselves from hopelessness may need to be surrendered. Every belief holds a mystery and devotion, but deliverance from faith is simplicity and creative surrender.

Hope and desire are self-preserving energies which protect us; we long for something to heal us in the darkness of our self-deprecation and the burdens of hopelessness. We defend our small territory of sanity and we trust that our steadfast faith will conquer all. But the spiritual straight-jacket of this quest for absolute hope dangerously distances us from the dimension of personal creativity. We cannot shove hope down other's throats, we can, however, realize unique freedom of love and creativity, and we can find a balance and act with our heart as much as we can move with our mind.

Posted by Wendy Clark at

http://wendy-clark.blogspot.com/2007/11/after-reading-john-dewey.html

Thursday, November 01, 2007

9:45 AM

Static Elasticity

"You are the next person I shall paralyze awkward," Jaio suggested in a tone of a lunatic, one of my Nirvana of Love. I like to stare at her hair while she's watching the tele, or while she talks about all different noblity.

I lost everything today, I say to the dial tone, and my eyes fogged over as did my sunglasses, today is humid and the sun only is slightly risen, apparently a senility covers the wake of the damp and sirens blare and dogs bark. A billion planes were floundering all together, but all I can think about is myself. Anyway, I think about what I am not as ironic as it isn't.

"Why do you ask so many rhetorical questions?"

The drive home from anyplace you go is going to be an unnerving string of fragmented images, sounds, smells, etcetera, but all you can do is drive, you have to get to your next destination; we all have to get somewhere, eh?

The object of the game is to outwit everyone else, or maybe to out-think them, surpass them in the good looks or "I know how to dress" or something or other, after all, you HAVE to be good at something, don't you? Or will you fall through the cracks?

The more you stay, the farther you go away any love looks you in the eyes and you don't wait for the words you want to hear so much these days; you're friends find misery and become a bore, of course, you ponder if this boredom is really just a manifestation of your own loneliness.

Ah, looking back, we had dreams, big huge quivering coolness in our attitudes; smarter, luckier, more destined for greatness than all those random bodies rolling over the earth, heads down, miserable because they were blending in with the entire puzzle, those pieces of people.

"Deal me in," I say before I think about the consequences.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

From a post of lj past.....

Check it out: I am convinced that my cat doesn’t eat a lot because he is - as always - trying to exactly like me; trying to emulate me as if I was some sort of role model: he constantly follows me around, gazing at hallucinatory miscalculations - those which consist of rules which regard an insignificant emblem of his feline perceptivity, but back to his behavior - what the hell? I ascertain nothing. Among other many other perplexing and rebellious behaviors, he will not, under any circumstances, eat his “little tiny-expensive-so-he-will-live-damnit!” food unless his beloved Me is in the room. Right now, as I address you, he sits aloft my computer monitor, pretending that he is absolutely aloof to my presence… But I am catching on to his deceptive little feline games! He is unaware that I am aware of him following me everyplace that I wander, faithfully and consistently. He takes his own little precise kitty time, catches up to me, plunks down within millimeters of me, and pretends like he isn’t cosmically tandem - like I’m not his GOD. Ummm… just joking. Anyone from Cleveland? Affirmative, Maw, I know I ain’t god. I received that memo YEARS ago. But hey - I’m al’ight. I’m existing splendidly, thanks for asking! I realize that I subsist only of my own integrity and conduct. I am whatever I think I am. I accept the consequences of my own actions. I believe in the laws of cause and effect (insert any joke here). I decide to confront my own contradictions and demonstrate interpretation of my truth. I will not tell you to go to hell or anywhere else, but I will continue to harvest you in tactful consideration of my every influence, though I may choose to disobey you from time to time. Kosher?

Listen very carefully, this is my only demand: Nothing. Would you give me that for once?! I demand absolutely nothing from you and I expect you to carry through with that.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

I would enjoy listening to a good story about my first encounter with JJ. I ran into her with a slightly charming eye contact thing I had been working on, and then she certainly fell in love with me.
"Everyone is in love with you," she dared to tell me a few times with out a trace of sarcasm or other means of most dignified deception for any reason whatsoever, so I began to believe her after seven or eight years, and a few days later, I asked her if she could back that up.
She hasn't spoken about it since, and I am beginning to get suspiciously bored with the concept altogether. So I forgave myself after she beat me at ice hockey and psychological meanderings. We are pretty ridiciously luck, we say to ourselves.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

"But that is beside the point,"

"What ever it is that you have to tell me, you better have something to say."
I nodded. "A silent world would be an ideal utopia for you Ms. _______."
"I really," she paused at tried to look dramatic, clenched her jaw and tapped her shoe on the ground twice, then scuffed, "yes, I think that I rather loathe your frequent and flawed - so called - 'obscurity.'"

I imagined my day at work would be completely obscure and meaningless to perhaps those who were not aware of my heroic, pathetic intentions to be wonderful, which was therefore equated with obscurity.

Clearly, I was losing my mind.

Or was my mind losing me?

Moral of the tale: Whenever you can't figure out what you were going to say, what the question was, if you really want to be wonderful, you will eventually turn out to be a motorcycle.

And my advice, one of the most impressive habits of we obscure heroes, is to just end every paragraph you speak, is to say this simple phrase "...but that's beside the point." You can do this till you get bored - nobody catches on unless they, too, are as obscure as you.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

As it unfolds, the edges are as eroded as the last time I surveyed my perceived happiness, and you were always there for me.

You know who you are.

Thank you for knowing.

"Dissection of the Question" June 2008 - to answer your question here.

Is this a rhetorical question?

The nature of the dullness gently cracked me up because of the pure waste of typing you took in order to post that.

And then I decided to respond.

So now, sit back and let me tell you a thing or two about what I think and have never had the time to say - nor the motivation to let myself be heard. But tonight, maybe you will listen to me.

Surely, a lot of new bands in Colorado are good and noble; some are "better" while some are "worse" - - I believe that you are cool to even give it a shot in this town of Denver. But hey kiddo, only one band can actually be the notorious BEST. Just like only one of them can be the worst. I think that your question begs many other questions.For instance, why do people ask so many pointless questions?

Change is constant. Therefore, the best new band happens every day or so. It keeps happening. The best new band is no better than the next new best band who rolls along and takes the stage and makes you think they are the next new best band but, like, then they aren't new anymore but then there is a new band. How long until they are not "new"? Could you please be more vague? You should have asked, "Who is the best new band in history?" Now, that would have been kind of funny and tempting to answer creatively!

Oh, well.

Rhetorical question #1: Can you please refrain from potentially ruining this message board by spilling stupid questions which waste our valuable cyberspace?

As much as Denver needs another wealth of helpful professional rock stars online, and we would love to invite all the music scholars who wander over from the DMB with their acute insight to edumacate our intellect with their magnetic communication and lead us to wise decisions via their (general) static boredom; as much as we need these inspiring poets of our DMB generation who make history every time they log in make themselves proud in their awesome experiences told so helpfully (no offense to B - he is my friend has always been smarter than all of us), people will continue answering the same redundant, narcissistic, stupid questions. Then who will have the BEST Board of thoughtless, self-absorbed rock stars; a greatbignewshinymessageboard of the Denver's best of the bored artistic.

Now, the question should have been, who is the NEXT best band? Who will be the next BIG thing? Do you want my opinion? Do you want me to hear your band because you are new? Okay. Where are you playing?

Or do you think anyone wants your opinion? Do you want a fact which uses generated data from experts, statistics, and sales? Or... Is there a contest going on that will prove who is the best and make the promoters or owners of a venue a lot of money?

If you care so much, why can't you even bother to write a question like a 5th grade graduate? Are you trying to ask smart people with taste and have a conversation with that or are you as bored as you are boring?

Point-in-fact:
The good folks at THE MUSIC BUZZ have actually launched a site that could be a place where the Colorado music community participate with other thoughtful musicians and fans and promoters who work together and who play together. Go ask this question somewhere else please. Please don't let this become another DMB. Please go back to it if you are one of the very cool kids who have a profile there. Please do not post here. Please. No one needs two DMBs, man. Please.

If you have ever read the DMB and never posted (even drunk) then stay here and let's talk about

I have to ask some questions finally. Finally! I have to ask some questions because I want you to listen.

I am wondering if perhaps you need our feedback so that you could check out some new bands. Maybe you have run out of bands and you have seen them all so you want some fresh bands to go see and have new experiences and you don't care what genre or style, you love music and you want nothing more than to find out what we think no matter who we are or who we aren't. But slightly, I suspect that you have an agenda.

What is your agenda?

And can you give me a list of new bands? Is this multiple choice? May I write a band in? GET IT?

Are you looking to go dancing? Are you new in town?

AND WAIT! Again, what constitutes a NEW band? When does a band become part of the category of best band? Or best old band?

OR -who is going to reinvent themselves musically and step in and take over? Who is going to be the next legend? Who is going to be here long enough to make a name in this town?! Who isn't?

Semi-good news:

New bands are always a glimmer of hope and love in a town where the favouritism is abundant. New bands may get the attention of one of the prominent few Denver promoters to whisper sweet nothings into their ears and give them a shot. If they are true newbies, the band members hang onto the words of these "promoters" because they are getting attention, feedback and a sense of self-inspiration but will the promoters are not interested in them but how much they can earn as a mentor who invests bullshit and somehow gets away with it. The band is only NEW while they are still innocent. Then the band goes away when the promoter finds the next new BEST band.

I guess this information is obvious - but what is the point?

What is the point of telling everyone what band is better than the next? Who are you helping by judging who is better and who will sell more records and who will be the next big thing? Who are you to tell a "community" who is the YOU think is the BEST?

I love a lot of new bands. And old bands. And new books. Old reruns of "My So Called Life." Old friends. New friends. All beer. However cheesy, I love the brilliance inside those creative mind(s) who surround us the most. I love the songs, music, artists, writers, anti-contenders and contenders who are the real thing, man; the ones who are madly beautiful and inspiring and give you a reason to want to create.