tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55044312082395463532024-03-05T04:36:21.243-06:00THE WORD IS A BELLA Weekly Story About My Life As An Indie-Musician.rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-6255553996165877152019-04-01T15:19:00.000-05:002019-04-01T15:19:40.337-05:00The Three Most Important Tips for Writing Your Poetry Book<div data-pm-slice="0 0 []" data-rte-preserve-empty="true" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">
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repost from my website:</div>
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I’ve had my book out for a little while now and I feel like this is the first month I’ve been able to breath. I mean really take a breath and enjoy myself. Writing a book of poetry was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I couldn’t be more proud of the way it all came out. </div>
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Anyone that has ever written a book deserves a big congratulations. You are amazing. We are amazing. Anyone just starting the journey, I think it is one of the most rewarding and harrowing experiences, so good luck.</div>
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A book is a big process. We think of it as one product, but it is the culmination of several art forms. The design/layout of the book was in itself a massive undertaking, not to mention the writing, rewriting and endless editing. After the book is created you have distribution and marketing. When my book was released, I did two reading events (one in San Antonio and one in Houston), an interview with Nuestra Palabra (Which I am so grateful for Tony Diaz and the staff for having me), an online store I maintain and in-store distribution, and that is just the beginning of the release journey. </div>
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There are some things I really excel at in this process, some I am new at and still have a lot of room to improve on, but now I have travelled from coming up with the idea, to getting it out into the world. There isn’t a single point of the book making process that I didn’t get my hands in. (I have levels more appreciation for the written word and all the wonderful books on my shelf). And I want to share some of the things I’ve learned with you.</div>
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A quick note: “<a href="https://www.amazon.com/When-Love-Ends-Be-Water/dp/1732708207/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1RDYMPVEY2BT2&keywords=when+love+ends+be+the+water&qid=1554149388&s=gateway&sprefix=when+love+ends+be+th%2Caps%2C179&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><em>When Love Ends, Be The Water</em></a>,” itself came out beautifully. Featuring gorgeous illustrations by <a href="http://www.rikkiannevankirk.com/" target="_blank">Rikkianne Van Kirk</a>. (I’m so touched by the delicacy of her work. I think I’ll write a separate post about that. You can click on the link and check out her amazing work). I will always be my own harshest critic, but all that self-loathing and anger paid off: I MADE A BOOK! And a good one too, if I may. I am offering a few pieces of advice for anyone thinking of writing an independent book (this wont apply if you sign a deal with a company cause they will do things their own way and that’s cool). So for those of you crazy enough to try this, here are a couple of tips:</div>
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<strong>Good isn’t good enough: </strong>Everything matters. Just like in a poem. Every word. Every space. Every detail counts. The same goes for the book. Every font. Every layout choice. Every decision you make is an opportunity to deepen your connection with the audience. Make sure that all of those details are saying what you want it to say. Not everyone will agree with every decision you make and that is ok. But if you have solid, thoughtful reasons for making those choices, then it simply a matter of taste and not error. You never want error to be the dividing force between you and your audience.</div>
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<strong>Learn what you can, get help for the rest: </strong>If you don’t know how to edit, layout, illustrate, distribute, promote, or whatever. You have 2 choices. Spend time learning the craft (all of these are dedicated careers you can spend lifetimes learning btw) or you can hire it out. Neglecting a necessary item, isn’t helpful and doing it poorly… well, see tip #1. There are lots of helpful resources for finding the right people, and lots of helpful places where you can learn what you need. I went to my library and did a whole lot of research on fonts, design, and layout to get the book where I wanted it to be. I have no idea how to illustrate, and I am terrible with drawing but I had the help of a wonderful artist and she took my book to a whole new level.</div>
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<strong>A book is a marathon, not a sprint: </strong>This ties in with the first two tips, because you there will be so many times when you are fed up. When you think: Do I really need to do another edit? Another design? It’s probably good enough! But you have to push those things aside and try to look at your book with at least the attempt of objectivity. You have to ask: Is this the best I can do or am I just exhausted? Timelines will fall apart. Deadlines will get pushed back. Draft numbers will pile up. If you feel like you need help, see tip 2! If you want to just rush it out, see tip 1! </div>
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You can read a whole bunch of tips for writing a book, but no one will know who to write your book better than you. I think if you keep these 3 tips in mind, every other tip is just falls in line. Like, don’t have typos corresponds to tip 1. Same with knowing your audience, stay on topic, start with a bang, or whatever standard hints people like to pitch. </div>
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I believe this experience should be available to all writers. It is 2019. The gatekeepers have fallen. Writing is democratized. Publishing is easier and cheaper than ever. The internet/libraries are a wealth of unlimited knowledge. You can do it! No one can tell you no.</div>
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So one final bonus tip:<strong> Don’t let anyone (including yourself) stop you</strong>. I guess this goes back to Tip #3, but there are always going to be low moments. People who don’t get you or what you are trying to do. Moments where you will question your sanity. That is normal. Criticism is great for building your ideas. The thing to remember is, you are writing YOUR book. Especially for poetry, it should be for you and reflect who you are. I write because I love writing. I am not going to turn the one thing I love doing into some nightmare for me just to please somebody else. I wrote the book I wanted to write. I made it the absolute best I could. If I needed help, I researched, and if I still couldn’t, I asked for help. And finally I went slow. It took me a long time to get here (2 years) and now it is nothing but a celebration.</div>
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till next time</div>
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-rene</div>
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PS: Originally I wanted to blog the process of writing my book (which I still might do), and then I had wanted to start doing reviews of other poetry books that I read (which I also might do. Maybe you can help me decide?) but things got so crazy just trying to make it through this thing alive that all those ideas had to be stored away.</div>
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I think I’m ready for a fresh idea. I’m just going to put this out there with a big, Thank You to you all and the Universe. Let me know what you would like me to do and of course, if you haven’t read it yet, my book is available on <a href="http://renethewriter.com/" target="_blank">my website</a> and on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/When-Love-Ends-Be-Water/dp/1732708207/ref=sr_1_1?crid=58V3T8WC4XY6&keywords=when+love+ends+be+the+water&qid=1553744091&s=gateway&sprefix=when+love+end%2Caps%2C150&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. </div>
rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-85811222541109021442018-02-20T13:12:00.000-06:002018-02-20T13:12:42.545-06:00Learning To Read Pt 6 (Metaphor and The Descent into Sub-Text)<span style="font-size: large;">A poem is not always what it seems. There is the apparent story - the text. A</span><span style="font-size: large;">nd the thing we are not talking about when we talk about the story - sub-text.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In this way our conversation between reader and writer can get dangerous. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>and the way to bridge that gap is - metaphor</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>this is a series about understanding and improving our ability to write through my experience of becoming a reader. check out parts 1-5 on this page</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I was young-er and a not so avid reader in middle school we read a poem about blueberries - <i>I've tried to find it but haven't </i>- and I remember it was about blueberries cause I got into an argument with my teacher that went something like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>teacher - what do you think the poem was about?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>me - blueberries</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>teacher - but what else was it about? maybe the blueberries were a way to talk about something else...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>me - why can't a poem just be about blueberries?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>teacher - *sigh</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, I'm sure the poem was about more than blueberries and I'm also sure if I was older than 10 I might have been able to think more critically about blueberries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The truth is trying to define sub-text is tricky even now. There is not one answer that works for every reader or writer. Every one can and will read into a poem differently but that's not a problem younger me failed to grasp:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What my younger self failed to understand was the metaphor of the blueberries, or if I remember correctly, picking blueberries. That is, the act of picking blueberries was the subject of the text, and the rail into which I could have begun to descend into the author's sub-text. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The poet chose blueberries out of all the fruits or vegetables that they could talk about and why can give us a clue about the poem is really about when we talk about blueberries. Maybe they picked blueberries because it was a real life experience, so blueberries was a historical choice, but this would lead us to possible sub-texts like nostalgia, family, youth, nature, innocence, etc. Or maybe blueberry picking is regional and the sub-text can wonder into class, race, gender, history, occupational, etc. Or maybe the blueberry is representative of something bigger like a person, or relationship, or a nation, or a people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>teacher - so what is the poem about?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This would all be easier if I remembered the rest of the poem, but like I said the metaphor is just the handrail for the descent into the sub-text, not the sub-text itself. So any poem can be read in these different ways and they are not more or less valid just more thoughtful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>younger me - blueberries</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>me - all I remember are the blueberries</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>teacher - *sigh</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span></div>
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-65221471278501305832018-01-17T16:14:00.001-06:002018-01-17T16:14:48.830-06:00Learning to Read Pt 5 (Line Breaks)<div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>This series looks from a readers point of view about how to become a better writer. How I learned to read poetry taught me a lot about how I want to write. Check out parts 1-3.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Line Breaks might be the most misunderstood concepts in amateur poetry. Many beginner readers/writers, my past self included, think of breaks as serving a singular function. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Either one of the look of poetry, as in short words in a line looks like poetry:</span><div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">or one of idea breaks, as in breaking each line when a thought is complete:</span></div>
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a poem</div>
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looks lik'a poem</div>
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when its shape</div>
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looks like this</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Both look like poems because we know they are not written in long format like this sentence. But the truth is that trying to pin down and understand why or how to break lines is less a science or a rule, but an artistic touch. Poems can be full paragraphs. One to several words per line, or even parts of words. They can break at full thoughts, or in the middle of a thought. So where do you begin to understand it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I once again take it back to reading. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of the biggest functions I see across all kinds of line breaks is the question of flow. Or the reason to make a break is to help guide the reader into the tempo of the piece. Is the poem supposed to be fluid and easy? Is it slow and deliberate? Is it fun and whimsical? Or a million other things that the form could be used to represent the ideas of a poem.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If the lines break and clean full thoughts the words become really easy to read. The idea flows as if it was a full prose sentence but almost easier because it is arranged into smaller thoughts. But if the lines are broken erratically, the same words can become difficult and slow. As in:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">None of these break choices are right or wrong, poetry isn't about that, but they do convey different messages with the same words. They tell a different story. They have a different "voice" (a concept I have issues with but that's for a different post). It really is a matter of flow and flow, to me, comes from concept. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>What is the poem about? </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>How should it be read? </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>How do I want someone else to read it?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are all ideas that go through my head when I am writing. Because we know now that even this is a poem:</span></div>
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A poem looks lik'a poem when its shape looks like this.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But what would that tell the audience? Somehow the words lose a bit of meaning when they are written out in a regular prose format. Somehow the idea becomes one dimensional. The voice becomes generic. Not to say those are bad things, just different choices. And every choice in a poem is critical.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The more poems you read, the more you will see how and why other authors have chosen to make these breaks, and how it affects the way you read.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'd challenge you to take the line "a poem looks" and make you own variations. I'd love to see what you come up with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">much love</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-<b>rene</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtube, facebook and twitter. Also my new website ReneTheWriter.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">pps. Let me know if you liked this and I can do more.</span><br />
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-43944044678401703632017-12-28T16:02:00.000-06:002017-12-28T16:02:38.665-06:00Learning To Read Pt 3 (Improving Your Writing or The Devil of Detail)<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>How often do we think we know someone from their work?</i> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you ever read something and felt like the author just got you? That they had some intuitive look into your psyche? </span><span style="font-size: large;">If your like me, it happens too many times to count. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But the more I write the more I come to believe that the opposite is true. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe it's not the author that gives words magic, but the reader?</span><br />
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<i>This series looks from a readers point of view about how to become a better writer. How I learned to read poetry taught me a lot about how I want to write. Check out Part 1, and Part 2.</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of the first things I did after I decided that poetry reading was something I wanted to do, was read aloud to myself. At my home, pacing back and forth, in my underwear as I read my favorite poems to the furniture.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Trying things out in different inflections. Different voices. It went from uncomfortable, to absurd, to terrible, to ok, to horrible, to ok, and the more I tried to read like somebody else the less sense it all made.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">So then I tried not trying. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the more I let go of what I thought the reading should sound like, the more I could relax, slow things down, and read clearly. Suddenly my readings became better.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">The less character I put into it, the more my voice emerged into the piece. And when I could hear my voice in the words, the poems became more meaningful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That struck me. And it's a simple idea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I got out of it, was not the words as written, but the meaning I put in as a reader. <b>Without a reader. All writing is dead.</b> Without a reader, the writer is sending thoughts to a great abyss of meaninglessness. A writer is only half an equation - if even that. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">It is Readers who birth these still thoughts to life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes even incomplete thoughts become lush and full. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I thought, out of all my favorite books how many details were missing that I filled in as a reader. How much of the scenery, costumes, emotion did I put in. I mean there are some writers who are heavily detailed, but even they can't put in every color, every sound, every smell, every taste, every thought and breath. And why would they want to?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This isn't an excuse to be lazy as a writer. It's a fundamental understanding that everything written, every word, is in service to this great mysterious reader and their benevolent imagination.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Writing then becomes about the quality of the details and skill. Not just the abundance of technique. Any written world will always be incomplete, but the right details in the right place will feed the imagination of the reader. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Give just enough to orientate a reader into your world, but not too much where the piece becomes a dictation of a photograph.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Read a piece, see what details stick out and why that works? Imagine what details you would give instead. Or best, try to write a poem with as few details as possible and see what emerges.</span><br />
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every one</div>
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in every room tonight</div>
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over books and screens over</div>
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thin scraps of paper waiting lonely</div>
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for release dying to see a person</div>
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in the piece but they ain't</div>
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in the thing</div>
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collecting fragments</div>
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we're only buying dreams of dreams</div>
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whose words dried-dead</div>
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they</div>
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belong</div>
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to you now</div>
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say it now. say</div>
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and I'll echo you</div>
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but I ain't in</div>
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the thing</div>
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every one </div>
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in it together</div>
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in every room tonight</div>
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looking lonely for answers</div>
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in cracked-mirrors</div>
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but it ain't in </div>
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the thing </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">much love</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-<b>rene</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtube, facebook and twitter. Also my new website ReneTheWriter.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">pps. Let me know if you liked this and I can do more.</span></div>
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<br />rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-78561313672221063362017-11-30T13:43:00.000-06:002017-12-12T20:13:17.414-06:00Learning To Read pt 2 - Improving Your Writing<br />
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<i>Poetry, like all writing, is the message. Every poem has one. From the author to the reader. From reader to listener. And often that message is simple, though sometimes it is obscured in difficult layers of representation. *(<a href="http://thewordisabell.blogspot.com/2017/11/learning-to-read-pt-1.html" target="_blank">from part 1</a>)</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Part</b> <b>2</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Message is Lost</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; font-style: normal;">I'm not one to tell people what is or isn't poetry. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>I think that is a pointless conversation.</i> I'm also hesitant to say things are right or wrong, or good or bad. </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I tend to think of poems as being in-progress or finished.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">It's also worth a note that Whitman's Leaves of Grass was in-progress from 1855-1892 as a published work. So it's OK to improve and change. Things don't have to be so final. </span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Another note: my observations aren't meant as a law, but more of a guide for something that I see all the time with poetry, </span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">especially on Instagram.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I read a lot of poems on my feed. Some really move me, some make me laugh. A lot fall into this beautifully-confusing category. So many poems have great stories and ideas, but collapse in on themselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They start about subject A then move to B then so on and so on until we are at F and never have come back to any of the earlier points. Then its over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It becomes hard to keep them all straight, but the lines feel good and there <i>is </i>something of a story there. Something the author wanted to say. I can read the author's excitement. Their passion. They're right on the cusp of having a polished idea in their poem, b</span><span style="font-size: large;">ut somewhere between the feeling and the page, the message was lost. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The poem doesn't hold the burn. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And when I'm done reading the piece, I don't feel like I understood anything clearly. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe I could chalk it up to poetry being abstract or vague... poetry can be. But there is a big difference between an abstract concept, and the complete lack of one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is something we develop as readers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As a reader it is easy to make a judgement and say <i>I liked that, this made sense, this was weird, or good, or sexy, or terrible...</i> but as Writers, I see that judgement disappear.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I think because it is easy to understand ourselves, and it is hard to know how others will read our words. But we need that readers mind in order to write our messages clearer.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So lets start again small.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Instead of worrying about a big idea. Start with a simple one. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Some people say start with a title, but I have trouble with that honestly. I think the point is to start with a concept. Something that you can return to. Something that can ground a poem into a setting, or character, or action. This is where my Zen style thinking takes over for me. Good or bad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Recently I wrote a poem called Coffee. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><i>coffee </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">the taste was bitter - </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">she looked at me as if to say </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>t'know more things are different</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>t'know more things have changed</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>t'know of the many things we lost </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>like the slow drip</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>in the cold morning</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>unaccounted, unrecorded, unappreciated</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>unable to recall just one</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>the taste was bitter -</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>and she didn't have to say</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Whether or not you think it is great, I don't care, but it demonstrates one of my favorite things about writing poetry. Evolving a simple idea into an emotion, and then into an experience. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wrote it with the idea of coffee in the morning. Home brewed. It was a simple setting. Once I arrived on the line, <i>the taste was bitter</i>. I felt I had an emotional hook. The flavor for the coffee became the symbol for the relationship between the narrator and this second person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was tempting for me to want to evolve that idea more. To let it run away, but I try to control myself to some degree. To talk about the relationship. Why it has become bitter. Where it started. What could happen next, but there has to be a point to what is being said, or else the message will be lost. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>This is the part I think is subjective </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>and where real writing craftsmanship takes over.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">To me it was enough to know that the bitterness had overwhelmed the relationship. To know that the characters were not on talking terms, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><i>notice the lack of dialogue, combined with the repeating lines - she didn't have to say.</i> It was enough of a story to focus on the drink. The slow, drip of the machine, the cold, wordless interaction fusing with the taste of bad coffee. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;">The story became self-contained but not dull; there was a story between the lines.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;">And I built that taste for enough/not enough through reading. Relating my poem to all the things I liked as a reader. That is my barometer. Not what you think. Not what magazines think. Not what teachers or lovers or friends think. But my taste from reading.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For example, I am a big fan of returning to the opening line to close off a poem. It's a simple technique, not to be over-done, but it can help close off the loop of a narrative; reinforce the main concept of the bitter taste, and the establish the importance of the relationship to the reader. </span><span style="font-size: large;">That is, after all, </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">the one thing</i><span style="font-size: large;"> I want a reader to take away from this piece.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; font-style: normal;">If I had ended with the line, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>unable to recall just one,</i><i style="font-style: normal;"> </i>the last image of the poem would be the slow drip of the machine. Which is cool and poetic in its own way, but betrays the conceit of the poem. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Coffee</i> is not about the machine or even the coffee being made. It is about the people drinking it, and their inability to connect during a very communal activity.<br /><br />Having a cup of coffee and talking about the day is a near Universal staple of the human experience. We could simplify it even more to say, talking over a drink be it alcohol, tea, water, soda, or coffee is so human it is easy to forget that it is a thing we choose to do in order to help us connect with each other.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The utter failure in this relationship to move in to normal conversation means they are so infused with the bitterness, that there is nothing left. Nothing to talk about. Nothing to exchange but the bitter looks. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">And they both know.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">So maybe you didn't get all that from my poem the first time. Maybe you think it is not a poem, cause it doesn't rhyme or have an identifiable structure that can easily be categorized as a poem. Or maybe you think it sucks. Honestly I don't care.</span></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The words I wrote have a deliberate message I am creating through </span></span><br />
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></b>
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i>Imagery</i></b><br />
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i>Word Choice</i></b><br />
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i>Structure</i></b><br />
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i>Repetition</i></b><br />
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i>Composition</i></b><br />
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i>Social Constructs</i></b><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">and even though I have used a lot of poetic tools, </span></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">those individual terms would mean nothing if the poem meant nothing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">If it didn't add up to the communication</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"> experience between writing and the reader. If it didn't have a story behind the poem.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">So think about this: What do you want the reader to understand and take away from your poem? What is the essential idea? Make it small. Make it focused. And see if that makes a difference in your writing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><i>Third Note: This completely applies to most types of writing in general. Either Song. Novel. Essay. There should be some clear idea in any writing that needs to be said. With out that essence, why should anyone read it?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Much love</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-<b>rene</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtube, facebook and twitter. Also my new website ReneTheWriter.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">pps. Let me know if you liked this and I can do more.</span></div>
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-43588928547172460792017-11-08T14:54:00.000-06:002017-11-08T16:08:47.141-06:00Learning To Read. Pt 1<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">You probably know by now that I love to read poetry. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It's the reason I got into writing in the first place. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And in the short time I've been reading publicly, I've been lucky enough to find so much encouragement (</span><i><span style="font-size: large;">btw thank you for all the kind words. they mean a lot to me</span></i><span style="font-size: large;">). It's become such a big part of my life, that I decided to talk about how I learned to read and hopefully get more people to try.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Quiet a few years ago, a member of the <a href="http://royal%20shakespeare%20company/">Royal Shakespeare Company</a> visited my school and read <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44470/the-eve-of-st-agnes">On The Eve of St. Agnes</a>.To tell you that it was an important moment for me would be an understatement. It changed how I wrote, how I read, how I understood poetry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>And while I am nowhere near on that level, I am better for what I learned from that experience. More about that specific reading later but here are some things that have stuck with me since then.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Part</b> <b>1</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Poetry People</b> <b>and</b> <b>Poetry Is The Message</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's start with an uninspired, blanket observation: <b>poetry isn't for everyone</b>. And while that's true for almost anything, I have found such a hot or cold reaction to Poetry that I can't help but try and theorize why something I love so much, can be so hated as well. </span><span style="font-size: large;">So I'll move to my second cliche and move to the beginning of these experiences.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Most of the time, when people find out that I love poems, I'm met on some scale between confusion, annoyance, distaste, or anger. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Rarely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Vary rarely. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I meet someone who enjoys poetry too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It's not impossible</i>. <i>But I find those encounters to be</i> <i>outliers</i>. <i>And of those few encounters it's even harder to find someone who enjoys the same kind of poetry I do.</i> <i>Maybe this is do to my geography, or the small circles I keep, and maybe this would all be solved if I just got out more?... but this has been my experience</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So younger me, often kept poetry as a solitary subject. Something not to bring in to conversations with my friends. The times I remember best, ditching class, to have time alone in a corner of a library, or in my room, or on the university lawn, or hiding in the front seat of my car with the windows down. Quietly absorbing every line. Taking in the page as a secret passed thru history just for me. And I was fine with that. In fact it was exactly what I wanted. A way to enjoy my lonerism.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After all, poetry wasn't about making friends. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Poetry is something I do for me.</b> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I read and write cause I want to. It's my desire that is it's own reward. There's no monetary value. No good job or high five. No reason other than a desire to read and write. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I can share a moment with a writer's thoughts, see if they speak to me, if I like it or not or if I want even want that message in my life. And everything about Poetry, hinges on me. </span><span style="font-size: large;">And while yes, sometimes it's another author who wrote the piece, the conversation is strictly internal. They were merely the fuel for my own imagination. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I hold the conversation. I dictate how it ends. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I imagine this true for you, if you are a poetry person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe that's where the disconnect occurs? Maybe some people don't understand why they should put so much work or thought into a poem when it takes so much effort to understand and they receive no tangible reward. </span></i><i style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Poetry is slow. </b>Its practice requires calming that internal itch for fast and easy and waiting for a longer, personal reward that may not reveal its purpose until years down, when a reader can recall a succinct and poignant line.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>And while poetry is personal, at its origin, it's meant to be communal. Meant to be spread and shared. That was a big lesson for me to learn from the Shakespearean Actor and my wonderful Romance Professor. What's the point of writing, of publishing, if not to spread out like a virus thru time, infecting futures with the strange ramblings of your mind? </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Poetry, like all writing, is the message. Every poem has one. From the author to the reader. From reader to listener. And often that message is simple, though sometimes it is obscured in difficult layers of representation. </span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*(More on this later) </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That communication is <b>the most important part </b>of reading. Even if you're alone in your room, on a recording, in bed with a lover, or on a stage in front of a room full of people, or live on Instagram, the point is to uncover the message. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bring it out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Give it warmth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Slowly make it live. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Only the reader can do that.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A good reading should help the message emerge. A great reading should bring the author's voice off the page and into our reality. I</span><span style="font-size: large;">nto the moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes it takes a lot of time and re-readings to ever get to a comfortable place and say - I know this poem well enough to read it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I hear a lot of people read unconfidently. And this is probably because they aren't precisely sure what they are saying.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>So take time. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I never read aloud the first time. And I never perform without many, many re-readings. <i>I imagine this was equally true for the Shakespearean Actor who read at my University.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Read unfiltered, then Re-Read asking lots of questions like:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>What did the author mean? What is actually being said here? What should the reader get from this? Why is the poem divided up the way it is? Are the rhymes and rhythms supposed to be emphasized or is it just a background mood? What is the tone of this poem? Etc. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">There are a million questions and even more answers, but with every answer you find (</span></span><i><span style="font-size: large;">different readers will and should find different answers</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">) you should get closer to understanding your message.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> This is the work of reading. It's not easy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the reward... that's even harder to define. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe here we can revisit this Love/Hate problem. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why work so hard for words? Why go slowly over an idea, again and again? Why obsess over someone else's thoughts? If you see no value in it, it is the equivalent of eating a chunk of rubber tire. <b>Hard. Distasteful. Unrewarding. </b></span><span style="font-size: large;">It's easy to understand why someone would hate the thought of it. Or think it strange that other people enjoy it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I <i>think that's the inherited attitude of our High School understanding of Poetry. And for that, I won't blame them.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But if like me, you are a Poetry Person, you know there are universes of ideas to escape to. Dreams to make. Experiences to feel. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Each one has made my life so much deeper. Has taught me to appreciate others. To Think. To Feel. To Love. To be cautious of the words I use. To be mindful of my form. To be something more than I could be without Poetry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Human. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I challenge you to find a poem, record yourself reading it the first time, then read it over until you find some new insight into the meaning, and record it again. Hear the change that comes with understanding.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Much love</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-<b>rene</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtube, facebook and twitter. Also my new website ReneTheWriter.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">pps. Let me know if you liked this and I can do more. </span></div>
rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-61756092990780120432017-10-10T16:04:00.000-05:002017-10-10T16:04:39.955-05:00- (A Demonology) pt 2<div dir="ltr">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Slowly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So slow it didn't seem like such a big deal at first <i>- </i>I cut one rope, then the next.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Never really knowing how many I had left. Just a desire to remove.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I'll</b><b> take an aside here to say, </b><b>I</b><b> know </b><b>I'm</b><b> talking about a lot of abstracts and metaphors here. Stay with me. </b></span></div>
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>>> cut/cut/cut</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I thought the only way I could learn to be a better person was to remove the excess. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Slice and hack away at outdated beliefs. Superstitions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anything that didn't serve me to be better. Anything that held me back from progressing as a thinker. As a writer. As a person. Anything that clouded my judgment had to go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The more I cut, the more I kept finding. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Always, layered underneath, these old undesired parts of my character hiding away. </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">What did I believe that wasn't inherited from some past belief or circumstance of history? What did Rene really care about? What do </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">I</i><i style="font-size: x-large;"> believe in? </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">What do </i><i style="font-size: x-large;">I</i><i style="font-size: x-large;"> want to be? </i><span style="font-size: large;">My life seemed to be false understandings masquerading as Truths, until I began to believe there wasn't anything left of me that was real.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>But those old ropes were my safety. The links to my family, history, city, state, country, god, dreams, masculinity, and self. Whatever perspective held me down also used to be an old comfort. They gave me answers to questions </i><i>I</i><i> couldn't know. They made me feel secure in this infinite mystery of existence. Protected me from the fear of ignorance, even if by giving me a different ignorance instead. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wish, mostly in my weaker moments, that I could turn back to those old comforts, but I can't. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I learned how dangerous it is to put a knife to an old belief. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is no way back. </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">Imagine trying to re-believe in Santa</i><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When you sever yourself from a tie like family or religion, or masculinity, there is no way to re-thread it. They become cut forever. Having been proven to be brittle. Frayed. Devoid of old power. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the magic of those bindings are equal parts safety and danger. <i>Some of us protected by it. Some strangled. </i>Because their power is in fear. Without them I became alone to face my fears of the unknown, my fears of humanity and existence alone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the more we have to fear, the more we need and the more necessary those bindings become. Clinging tighter to something that felt real but is daily slipping.</span></div>
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...</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So to my nights (<i>if you are following from the last post</i>) when my mind is buzzing in thoughts and sleep won't come and the dark room seems filled with my memories. And I want to reach for past comforts, <i>but dead prayers don't get answered</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is an out. Understanding is the knife. The knife is freedom. <i>Yes, there is fear in my freedom. </i><i>What do I cling to when drift is stormy and the path is dark? When I have nothing but my own voice to answer to?</i> But fear doesn't have to be bad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You can drift. If you want.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know. I learned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I try to imagine a quiet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I imagine floating above myself. Free of sound. Free of smell. Free of taste. Only seeing the bed below and the body I've come through the world with and float higher into the night air looking down on the smallness of that bed and the shadow of person left lying.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For a long time it might seem that I am floating in the empty dark, but further still in this meditation, are all the stars and planets. All moving alone like me in to the infinite dark.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Somewhere in that strange dark imagining. There is music. There are words. There is mystery and answers. Cold, sterile, beautiful answers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Answers that come from no-where. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thoughts that bubble and fade.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything is</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">alone</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">together </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">in this natural, terrifying beauty.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">-<b>rene</b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtube, facebook and twitter. Also my new website ReneTheWriter.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw226hYsiamPHCggObONKQXrS83kJRP_JlrGkzmR7eYU8PnFH7MXs5zWlSgnFdnx9OfHoon-EQDiqsFBc3JFOzntsjWjFKl_qVZswWKfZPGZuZuq-PWDf7XXWDb2ziG8jQdezx7Go7Iv4O/s1600/a8ab57c45a3e255f798196bd4f436831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw226hYsiamPHCggObONKQXrS83kJRP_JlrGkzmR7eYU8PnFH7MXs5zWlSgnFdnx9OfHoon-EQDiqsFBc3JFOzntsjWjFKl_qVZswWKfZPGZuZuq-PWDf7XXWDb2ziG8jQdezx7Go7Iv4O/s640/a8ab57c45a3e255f798196bd4f436831.jpg" /></span></a></div>
rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-74664525077311936212017-10-10T16:03:00.002-05:002017-10-10T16:04:31.759-05:00- (A Demonology) pt 1<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I have these nights every few weeks. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Bad nights when sleep went come. Even as the heavy weight of exhaustion sits on my mind. Pushing my eyes half-closed. The feeling of falling into the bed hitting like waves. Sleep seems so close.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">But the waves wash back, and the eyes never fully fall, and the dreamy mind is busy making a thousand thoughts from all my days past. Rising like ghosts from the dark fissures of my brain. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">It has to do with anxiety... </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">If I think about it too much, everything gets tighter, my body starts to tingle with the lack of oxygen, my heart constantly jolts awake every time I start to drift too close to sleep. And it makes me think about it more. And the more I think, the tighter everything gets. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">When I was really young. I'd have these nights and my young mind took this feeling for fear and panic. My mother would lie with me. Slowly running her fingers thru my hair. Her hands always felt cool. I remember her gentle fingers like a breeze. And her chest. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">The long, slow breaths she would take,as I buried my face against her, telling me to match her. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">-In. She'd whisper and start at the crown of my head drawing back thru my thick unkempt tangles, as we breathed together. Her fingers gently flew out of my hair and returned to the top. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">-Out. And again her cool fingers brushed thru me. And slowly the jitters would cease. My mind would stay with her. My air would open. And I could breath. And I could fall.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">The bad nights still come. I've only grown heavier with ghosts. My mother is now one of them. A face to visit me on sleepless nights. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes I can close my eyes and breath with her. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">But I have learned other ways to deal with the bad nights, since then.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Writing is one. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">If you can't tell, tonight is a bad night...</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">One thing about these nights, I know I should sleep. My body is begging for it. I know. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">But.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Ghosts need exorcising.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe I'll work my way thru them. Maybe this will be my book of demonology. Maybe I'll write and write. And cleanse my heart. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">And there won't be any bad nights. And there won't be anything left to haunt me. And I will breathe. And my heart will be light. And sleep will be beautiful. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">If only I believed in such things. Still won't hurt to clean out demons you don't believe in... right? It never hurts to write. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I haven't blogged cause I needed a refocus. And now I think I know. Perfect in the time of think pieces. Start some medicinal writing as well as updates as I get closer to my book.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">-<b>rene</b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtube, facebook and twitter. Also my new website ReneTheWriter. </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw226hYsiamPHCggObONKQXrS83kJRP_JlrGkzmR7eYU8PnFH7MXs5zWlSgnFdnx9OfHoon-EQDiqsFBc3JFOzntsjWjFKl_qVZswWKfZPGZuZuq-PWDf7XXWDb2ziG8jQdezx7Go7Iv4O/s1600/a8ab57c45a3e255f798196bd4f436831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw226hYsiamPHCggObONKQXrS83kJRP_JlrGkzmR7eYU8PnFH7MXs5zWlSgnFdnx9OfHoon-EQDiqsFBc3JFOzntsjWjFKl_qVZswWKfZPGZuZuq-PWDf7XXWDb2ziG8jQdezx7Go7Iv4O/s640/a8ab57c45a3e255f798196bd4f436831.jpg" /></span> </a> </div>
rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-6017344009295420212017-07-07T12:09:00.004-05:002017-07-07T15:45:51.811-05:00A Few Things<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I haven't written here in a little while. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Maybe I've been nervous about it. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Deciding what I want to say next. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">So i'll start with a few</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Things:</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">1. music is almost done. I've been saying this forever but this time I mean it. there is direction. There is purpose again. and I couldn't be more excited. we have learned so much just pushing ourselves into the music. the first and best advice we ever got: <i>get into the studio. learn who we are.</i></span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">2. visuals. this is the next big hurtle. to convert a sound to an image ain't easy. and shouldn't be. with a little research I've seen a lot of nonsense around. things masking as creativity have nothing to show. and cheapen the sound. there is motion trying to milk out emotion for art and commerce. but if i never commit to a purpose there will never be a purpose. </span><br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>never be fooled. this is art. everything should mean something. this is commerce. everything has a motive</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">3. words. write more. and more. turn the ink to blood and force it to life. writing can be beautiful and ephemeral and romantic. but at some point. you have to take it into the dirt. this is the most violent of parts. editing. the manual labor. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">4. all of this takes time. time. time. put this into perspective. we will be ready when were ready. but this time i see everything different. this time. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>So where do i start? Jaime is wrapping up the sounds. I write when I can. And the visuals?</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">find a theme or narrative in the music. not both. thread the idea or the story. the images can not suffer a lack of purpose. everything should be for theme or narrative. emotion and story. this is not too different from fiction writing. not too different from music. not too different from poetry. you find the story and bring it out. the medium is only a toolkit for shaping the how. the stories are the what, and the why.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">if this doesn't make sense. you can ask me. but mostly this is just to get my mind right as i move forward. i think ill get back to writing more here.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">-rene</span><br>
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br></em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><em style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration-line: none;"><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">facebook</a>,</em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a>, and <a href="http://renethewriter.com/" target="_blank">now my website</a></em><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<br>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-53646272891609427992017-02-24T15:12:00.000-06:002017-02-24T15:12:05.411-06:00Quick Update: Still Alive<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Still Alive</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">New baby is here! More than a little tired. But writing is going exceptionally well. Poems, 2nd Novel. Working on a website renethewriter.com soon... was thinking of starting a novel on here... but i have so many ideas... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My brothers are working on a new mix of our Idyll Green songs.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">until I get things more together, here is a poem I've been working on...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Civics. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There is no</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">city when every</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">thing is apart</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">brother. from brother.</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">hiding side-streets. vagrant breaks</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">like bottle shards</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">waiting</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">to flicker in early morning</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">flames. licked red. for any /see </span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">comfort we give th'least of us.</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">being known by our charity. is being Human.</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There is no </span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">city when all</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">fall by the dividing</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">lines and walls.</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">neighbor. against neighbor.</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">till we are the worst desert to cross.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">with no kindness to shadows. suffering</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">with no warmth to their foot</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">steps</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">cold among the cheap cruelty of words.</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">cruelest. who see / an' know better</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">an' stay. silent. </span></div>
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-13439464174774720502017-01-05T15:35:00.000-06:002017-01-05T15:35:33.869-06:00Morning. Unwanted pt 5 (a hymn of forgetting)<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It started with my eyes.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Darting calmly between the soft, pink floor mat and the florescent light above. Half of my face buried drooling in cotton-shag. Lost in whatever stupor I had fallen into. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I had lost the hour, when finally the bloodlines around my irises stopped throbbing in a wave of calm. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Coolness ran across my forehead like the gentle massage of loving fingers expanding through my face.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The touch, long and delicate reached back through my brain. Scratching, soothing down the cracks of my spine, across my shoulders. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Light. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Heavenly light. I could feel her. Across the country. I haven't known too many touches like this...</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I felt still.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">a relaxed feeling </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I've hadn't felt in how long? <i>... </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>have I ever felt this calm?</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>how do </i><i>I</i><i> describe freedom of sadness? </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">to be relieved of my knowing?</span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr">
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I looked down at the pink bath mat. As every molecule was cut from its gravity and I was lifted up. Off the floor away from the white tiles. Detached. Forgetting anything that held me to the ground. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">My right hand rose away from me, and like I was turning over in air to the ceiling than back to the floor as my legs hit the light fixture. My spine rolled up to meet it until I was lying flat against the ceiling looking down to the body below. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">There was music for him. Around me. Music for them. I heard the strum. And hymn of forgetting. The music of the stars.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">And felt no fear for him. Always to be the face in the water... knowing what I am, and finally forgiving him... <i>there that was a genuine smile.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">to be cont.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em>
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: Vivaldi: La Follia</span><br />
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<li style="background: transparent; border: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Sonata in D Minor, Op. 1, No. 12, RV. 63, 'La Follia': I. Adagio (feat. Giovanni Antonini)" by Il Giardino Armonico</li>
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-67444948307823403132016-12-09T15:51:00.004-06:002016-12-09T15:51:41.269-06:00Morning. Unwanted (Wake Me When It's Over) pt 4<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Warning</b>: <b><i>some mildly graphic body sickness descriptions. So skip if you don't like that. </i></b><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's an ugly feeling being sick. Body failing. Feeling frail. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Somewhere outside of Portland, my mind raced with odd ideas during the sickest night of my recent memory. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- I can't believe you drank that much - Rachel texted.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Did I? I did... It didn't feel like it... Maybe... But this bad? The chills. The strange empty pain I felt in my stomach. The ache all over.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- Ugh - I texted back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- Do you need to throw up again? -</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even her words just about triggered me again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly I remembered vague hints of a few hours earlier when I was hit by the first round. I imagined the smell, the taste when so much dinner, and acidic, putrid water burned through my throat and out mouth and nasal passages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- Ugh - I texted again trying to shut out the thought and closed my eyes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every time I closed my eyes I felt like I was falling towards the back of my head, and just when I thought my eyes couldn't go any further. I learned there was always further. Again and again. Rolling back into the void. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I swallowed hard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fighting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Weak, but my eyes held tight, as if that could keep anything down, while my body feebly clutched to the hotel blankets unable to stay warm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">First came the colors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Swirls of red pulsed open in the blackness of my mind as I feel into the center. Like gravity folding me into my chest. From that dense red fear emerged a face. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or the skin of a face. Behind it heat swirled until the edges of that unknown skin caught fire and burned away. To reveal another face. One I knew. His mouth disproportionately large opened with a cartoonish set of teeth that held his same face again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">His mouth opened revealing the face again, burning with fire. This all repeated over and over as I fell into the inexhaustible hellscape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The flames spreading around me and all the while my body shivering. Growing colder and colder</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Until </span><span style="font-size: large;">my phone rang.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I checked it with one eye only - maybe you should try eating something? - she texted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My mind took a second to think of the words, and suddenly my body found a surge of energy as it raced itself to the bathroom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't think there was anything left inside me. But again I was wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For a few moments my body only dry heaved. I felt the pressure building in my throat with each push. Against my jaw. Against the back of eyes the desperately eked out a few drops of tears. Then finally, came a yellow liquid. Nearly transparent and tasteless. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I only had a moment to think of what that was before it was followed by a small black mass. You could call it a lump? A cohesion of something? <i>In my head </i><i>I</i><i> wanted to call it an egg. But it couldn't be. I hadn't eaten anything like it.</i> My body had produced something egg like that now floated in front of me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I slammed the lid of the toilet and fell back on the bathroom floor. Closing my eyes this time. I heard the hum of the vent above me. A low calm sound. This time there wasn't any rolling backwards. There wasn't any flames. I lay on the floor. On top of a black fuzzy mat. Feeling calm...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">to be cont.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em><br />
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;">Wake Me When It's Over - Willie Nelson</span><br />
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-87348834788248635712016-11-15T14:08:00.001-06:002016-11-15T14:08:20.790-06:00Los Angeles... none of us get anywhere alone.<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Just back from LA and I need rest... </span><span style="font-size: large;">and music. So thankful to meet with so many great people and re-instill my sense that there are a lot good people everywhere. I love seeing people support each other.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was a night. Clouded and humid. So much like Houston. I was waiting in line for a show with my friends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They were on me about a song I hated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>A song that always irked me from an artist that irked me even more. </i></span><span style="font-size: large;">They wouldn't let go of it. Singing it. Talking about it. And the more I fought them the more they went at me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And maybe it was school or maybe it was the week I was having or a recent girl, or the pollen count but,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I snapped, and over-reacted to something that meant nothing to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Something that means nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me that night began an unraveling. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A slow process of an impossible task. Trying to remove bias from my listening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I forced myself to listen to things I didn't like. Trying to understand them. And though I could never enjoy them as authentically as others, I did begin to see why they existed</b>. And the music I hated had less to do about the songs themselves and more to do with me confronting my opposites. These were twisted reflections of the things I loved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had learned to hate music in order to help me enjoy it more. I had a reason to be so vicious and vigilant. So protective of my identity. That perspective gave me purpose in rigidity. <b>And the more I had invested into my own opinions the more I fell into this trap.</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This isn't unique to me, or my love of music. We are raised to see everything in opposites. But this journey has shown me that looking for subjective truths through a lens of dichotomy can give no understanding at all. It only sharpens the bias. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Music <i>(like most things in life</i>) isn't a collection of defined lines. It's grey areas, and shades, and blending, and evolving concepts. We can't always have an answer that is good for everyone in every situation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And being aware of this human deficiency doesn't mean I am still not susceptible of falling into the same traps again and again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I still see my opposites as opposing,</b> but when I go back to the ideas and try to place them as a mirror of my own biases, I don't see them with hate but instead with absurdity and laughter. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've spent too many days alone. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Spent too much time hating. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I have no room for that anymore. <b>There are good people. Even some with bad ideas. And none of get anywhere alone.</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: medium;">-rene</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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Mind Break Mood: Nico - These Days</div>
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<em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-50852640371682615132016-10-24T14:25:00.002-05:002016-10-24T14:25:52.520-05:00Morning. Unwanted. Pt 3<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">All sound comes from vibration and that only comes from tension. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even then, sitting in the dark of the stage while the rest of the band milled about the amps and cables, our tour manager talking to the club about merch, I set to put on a new set of strings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was tension. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Every time I change a string, I feel the tension. The resistance.</i></span></div>
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<i style="font-size: x-large;">I don't know why I get anxious about it...</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was very little light on the stage. And darkness everywhere else. I was thinking of words. Words I had last night when I was alone that left me now. So I turned the strings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like to start on the heaviest string. The E. Sliding through the body, pulling it over the bridge, the slide of steel as it passes, reaches up to tuner, catching on in a turn. Then I move to the lightest one, on a bass that's a G. Then fill in the A. And last the D.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It's the way I learned it from violin. I was probably 5 when I tried to string up my instructors violin. He had me practice on his. That made me even more nervous especially since he didn't talk as I carefully went through the directions he told me the week before.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Start at the lowest. Align the string. Careful not to move the bridge, which is a disaster on the violin, tighten slowly. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Very slowly," my instructor cautioned, with the first word spoken in 5 mins, "you wouldn't want the string to break and cut back at you." He whipped his finger up to his eye. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now slower than before, I tightened. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It doesn't take long for a strong to get enough tension to make a sound. The lower the tension the bigger the vibration and the sound stays low. The more you tighten, the higher the sound gets. It's all very simple.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Tension. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Force. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sound.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">But even simpler to understand: too much tension and everything breaks.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Are we ready for sound check?" I asked only to be met with a shoulder shrug.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">The last part of changing strings, cutting off the ends to make it look nice. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Four silver tines. Pointed up to the stage lights. Newly stretched and wound and bent. They came out of the headstock. </span><span style="font-size: large;">With a set of wire cutters I snipped off each one. Listening to them rattle and bounce as they hit the floor of the stage.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a terrible feeling waiting for the snap. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Always makes me anxious.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">to be cont.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em><br />
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: Hiroshi Suzuki - Cat</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-52529369573872378222016-10-06T12:25:00.002-05:002016-10-06T12:26:31.144-05:00Morning. Unwanted.<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">The sun was already 3 hours in the sky, and still only a few noises were stirring. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">-Soon we'll be in the bus rushing out of here. I hope the drive is under 4. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I was already thinking about tomorrow. </i><i>I'm</i><i> foolish that way. To let these moments go unappreciated.</i> <i>Somehow that day,</i><i> kindly, I was brought back. </i><i>Reminded of the importance of taking things in.</i> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Still in a half-sleep, like my mind was still swimming in melatonin. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">My moves were clumsy. My thoughts slow. And the world seemed with me. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">We yearned for stillness. To return to quietness. But morning has a way of announcing itself. Unwanted. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I couldn't tell you specifically what woke me up. Maybe it was a smell lingering on my shirt lifted by the morning breeze? Maybe it was a laugh from the tent next to me as another festival goer began waking up? Maybe it was the squeak of a bird, or the revving of an engine.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Setting my boots to the side of my tent I stretched out my body over dirt, cool and tender. Letting my feet press into the few patches of grass left standing. And looking at the hundreds of tents around me I was hit with a memory. A flash of the night before. Like a dream, I was</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Under a string of red and blue lights. Swinging back and forth. Lights. One strand over the whole tent. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Keeping its own movement over a thousand voice chant over the pulse of bass.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Slowly. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Swinging. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">As the bodies moved in together. Closer to the stage. Closer. The breath. The heat.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I felt the sun on my bare feet, over my arms radiating into my chest and remembered feeling the heat.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">But I had only noticed it when... </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">A cold touch of skin. Hands and arms. Flashes of hair twirling as the lights turned from colors to White. A body and leather fringe spun away. Black. The crowd moved together feeling through the dark. White again. And I'm near a tall blonde in leather. Then black again. Moving away.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">From a tent two rows down I saw our tour manager Eva emerge. Stumbling with closing the zipper. She turned around and gave me look like. Let's move it along.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I hadn't used much since I was our here, so it was easy to pack up my bag again.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Clothes. Book. Deodorant. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Shoes. Jacket. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">
Bass.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">This bass. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">My anchor. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Tethered me to the stage. Playing the notes from finger memory. My mind had left. There was just music. My body holding the bass, holding me to the song. Each note pulsed as I plucked. A wide vibration rung out into the sea of people. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">My mind is in the sea. I, the maker of waves, thrown in the tide. Till security pulled me back. Grabbed by the collar. Pulled away from people. And back to the stage.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eva comes by in sunglasses now. And coffee. Awake. Alert now. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">-you ready Rene? </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">-as always</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">to be cont.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em><br />
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: Too Much Sorrow</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-36469307029933627872016-09-21T12:24:00.000-05:002016-09-21T12:24:23.388-05:00New York Showcase, Some Other Future's Past<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Despite what it looks like with these stories, I try to think very little about my past. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">What is done, I like to leave done. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Maybe this is me keeping a few memories for later? For a day when I will want to look back. </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">But now, after I close this story I won't look back. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>- keep telling yourself Rene...</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'll be starting new. Different. This will be a when, in some other future's past.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">- well... lately my past and future blurring together. All because of</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">New York. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">When I started playing music, or thinking about music seriously, it was up to New York. And all the time back again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">And again. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">So many things in my life have happened to me in NYC.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Letterman, Carnegie, and late night jams. And celebrities. And parties. And sleeping on floors. And walking through the streets at night in the rain reading poetry in the geometry of buildings.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Each a life created of one mind. Intricately working away at the life of itself. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">The city. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Seen like a Texan. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">A strange place with its own gravity. A dark tangle of ideas and dreams. A massive question on eight million foreign tongues, I don't understand, and back I go into the think of it on the 14th.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">- <i>Do you want to know what it is like to be a cell in a body? Or maybe just part of a cell? The cilium perhaps? Or the atoms inside the cilium? NYC makes me feel that small.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">- and that's a great thing... To know I am small in this world. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Small movements. And small works. That everything in life is made from small works. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I can marvel at the big pictures. I can know or learn or be aware of big trends. Cultures. Of stars and currents. And gravity. And ages and ages. But I can only work in small moments. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">That's how I feel now. Getting ready for what I know is a big show. (Big show for us). Big show for my family. Big for my future. And it is on a small scale. With small moments. And small movements.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">A Song. A Verse. A Word. A Look. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">The small details that make a show worth seeing added up.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">And all of it, is of small consequence to the world.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything to me is no thing at all. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">What a feeling. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">New York. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; line-height: 20.79px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">till then</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; line-height: 20.79px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text";"><span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;" /><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; font-size: medium;"></span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Crimson Text"; font-size: medium;">mood: Once In A Lifetime</span></div>
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-14526414290525354772016-08-25T15:40:00.000-05:002016-08-25T15:40:06.023-05:00Woods <div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I woke in a slide of leaves. Stumbling to lift as if the world was holding on with hands decorated in passes of early morning. Each leaf color; the wide-palm orange or the slender fingers of red, each hue clung on to my shirt and jeans.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then leaving as every sense came to.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">For a moment forgetting how I came here, and why; I remember the wind shake with the peace of being awake before I began to clean away the dirt under my nails.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">- <i>Water</i> - </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">My first thought every morning.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Never enough water."</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">If there were commandments for bands, that would be high up on it. Top 5 at least. </span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I lifted myself with an unfamiliar bark, white and stripping, that sliced in my palm as I leaned. A sting barely registered on my mind. Blind to one focus. </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">- </span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;">Never enough water - </span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I moved towards the tents. Where people waited again. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">"And water."</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Every one in the band was still asleep in the early morning. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I found a pair of boots outside of one tent. A backpack. A set of woman's sneakers outside of another.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">And finally sneaking behind the drummer's tent to an ice chest. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Pooled with melted ice, and leaves and a desperate beetle floating inside. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Somehow had trapped itself in the shelter of empty ice bag. Scooping out the beetle that flinched in my hand, twisting wildly on the ground as I set to washing my hands and face in the cold. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">And finding underneath a heaven in plastic. A rush so cold it stung my throat as the bottle of water emptied away.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I do this thing I learned from my father. Every time. Literally crushing water bottles, so they take up less space in the trash. It's habit now.</i><i> </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">So in under a minute when the water is gone and I crush the bottle as tight as I can. The bottle pushed back against my hand, against the cut from the tree.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">And I bled with the condensation in drops, fell pink to the dirt. To the leaves fading.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">My palm just under the left thumb. I carried this scar with me for a while. During the next few shows after, I felt it sting when I played and twisted my hand a certain way. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">It stayed.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">That night stayed. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">And even in these words the night stays. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">No you don't have to be big or devastating to leave an impact. To make an impression on someone they can remember. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">From you. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">On some different day. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">When they remember a night in the woods.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em><br />
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: Fluff</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-77056956638103611932016-08-11T12:12:00.002-05:002016-08-11T12:12:34.705-05:00A Window To A Dream<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm getting closer to the stage. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Everyday. This vision of what this new show will look like comes back to me. Imagining w</span><span style="font-size: large;">hat it will feel like to me. Or you....</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Surrounding ourselves in this new idea of Idyll Green. Performing a new identity.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">What it will say...</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In every band I've had a different identity. Changing with the needs of the show. Like a new job, or moving to a new city. Playing new music can shape me, and my approach to playing. It's a little bit schizophrenic but I can't do it any other way. I can't embody the changes in songs with out allowing myself to be affected by it. I can't just do the same thing every time. It's not truthful for me. And I think the only good performances are truthful to the performer.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>So this show is no different. And with out giving too much, it is very, very different than anything my brothers and I have done before. </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">More than a concert, I want the show to be an expression of itself, informed by the music, but speaking in it's own language. Of visuals and emotions. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Each movement, we've thought, tells of places we've been. And things we've done, and how we felt. Again and for the first time.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">A window to a dream.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">In all strangeness. The fragments bring us closer to the living world. Closer to ourselves. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Or that is the hope I hold.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">We saw an opportunity with these songs to give not just a regular performance. But exploring the possibility of what we can do. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">Showing us fears we hide. Expectations we avoid. Or perhaps even more terrifying, the joys we never pursue.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Until then it is more planning. More dreaming. </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">A quick question or thought... if you could hit reset and set up your life, or job in a new way, how would you change. If today was day 1? If you knew everything you knew but could redesign your life? How would you? Let me know.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: large;">till then</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><br /></em><br />
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: </span><span style="font-size: medium;">a day in the life</span><br />
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-69132092332230097052016-08-05T15:22:00.002-05:002016-08-05T15:23:26.996-05:00Another Week Of Ups<span style="font-size: large;">This week is big for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Anniversary: </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">4 wonderful years with my wife. Who I still love, stronger than ever in fact. I couldn't ask for a better partner and friend. I'd be a wreck with out her.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Birthday:</i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm turning a milestone year I guess. I'm just happy that I feel as well as I do. The accident still affects me all the time. But that hasn't fully dampened my spirit. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There is so much more happening with the band. I just want to put out to the universe my gratitude for a life as strange and fun as the one I have.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I will try not to take that for granted.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">much love</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-74174403394164042912016-07-21T14:36:00.002-05:002016-07-21T14:36:54.057-05:00Black Ribbons Part 4<span style="font-size: large;">There are distances we make for others. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Spaces. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Between looks. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They are hard to cross. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Hidden miles between drinks and conversations. I was lost out there as tea table lights faded into darker hours. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My eyes - glassed. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Not from exhaustion, or beer - this is still the first can half-drunk and warm from my inattention. Not from the haze of smoke. Or the music. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Distance.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>- Do you know how far we are?</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You are being quiet," she nudged my shoulder. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"A Silent Texan right, Rene?" the table is looking at me, "Pistols at dawn? Cowboys?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The girl from the alley laughed. Brushed the black ribbons on her wrist, watching for my answer. She'd brought me here to meet friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of which was a wispy-blonde, art student in a red tank top asking me questions about Texas. And conservatives. And cowboys.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Y'all love your guns."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>- How far we are.</i> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">He was wanting to argue.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No man we don't all have guns."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>And that's true. Mostly. We don't all carry. I wasn't going to tell him that I didn't know a lot of people who did. That they made me uncomfortable. Just that we all don't. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ride your pony to school?" he laughed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No man."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I just can't understand it cowboy..." He leaned over his drink. Coming just into the light of the candle so the fine blonde hair on his chin glimmered faintly.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">He was ready to for a</span><span style="font-size: large;"> show. He was mad. And needed a way to express it. So he doesn't the night looking for an argument. To make a stand for a hero agains his anger. But he needed a straw dog.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> An emblem for everything he thought was wrong in the world. </span></i><span style="font-size: large;"><i>For him, it was a gun owner. A Texan. And though I don't own one I was a Texan and that is close enough sometimes. </i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His speech ran. I waited. Feeling my Lone Star getting warmer. And wondering if this would have gone a different way had I not ordered it. If I had ordered a Guinness instead. Or a craft micro-brew... would I be having a direct night then? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He wanted me to argue back, but I only nodded and gave several sighs that ranged from "I <i>know</i>," to "I know <i>right?</i>" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Cause for the most part I agreed with him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Distances. It's always hard to see how far we are...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"See cowboy," he showed me his wrist.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to tell him, I'm just not that person. Not that cowboy. I think he's right. But I listened.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Black Ribbons</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Him and her. All their friends too. Made them into bracelets or armbands or on a necklace. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Black Ribbons.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Each one a student lost in the last year. Each one a gun shot fired in some school.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They broke my heart. And I loved them for making a statement for trying to say something. And I loved them for having so much love in their hearts that they would give me a lecture on guns. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Cause they were angry. Cause they believed change is possible. And something should be done. But the young can only do so much. And they didn't want to forget, and they don't want to sit by, so they wore b</span><span style="font-size: large;">lack ribbons and talk. And argue. And participate.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>- Maybe the distance grew a little smaller.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The waitress came around and everyone ordered again, I did too.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Even though I knew I wasn't going to drink the next. Like I didn't drink the first.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Cause some people need to talk. People need to tell their story. Not about politics. Or policies. But people. Hurt people. Angry people. Scared people. Tired people. They all have stories. Even when we agree. We need to listen. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't pretend to have answers. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This took place well before the Orlando Shooting or Dallas. They were talking about campus shootings. But this happened right as I was revisiting this memory. And it hurts worse now. That distance. One I didn't want to cross... shrank again. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And I still feel the same, but I think I need to clarify something about my thoughts. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We need to do something. Action should be taken. But our dialogue devolves so quickly that it becomes near impossible to discuss how to change. There is anger and name calling, and politicizing and all the worst things that stop us until we quit and move on, waiting for another attack to stir everything up again.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Listen. Sympathize. Love. It is not easy to close distance. No matter how small. It is not easy to open ourselves to our own faults. Cause that's what it will take. Not proving what we feel is right but admitting what learn is wrong. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-90244329419681109012016-07-07T14:23:00.002-05:002016-07-07T14:23:34.903-05:00Got A Date!<span style="font-size: large;">NYC I am so pumped. Idyll Green has a showcase date officially. We are moving things ahead. The showcase, the stage build out, the music.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Things are happening.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This is a beautiful feeling.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">ahhhh!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We are still a ways off and many hurdles to go but it feels good right now. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to enjoy this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-26567891037049596932016-06-24T16:05:00.003-05:002016-06-24T16:05:29.394-05:00Some Days - A Break<span style="font-size: large;">Obstacles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think that is what is in my head right now.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I fight and try to get things going. And the world get's in my face and slowsssss me down to a crawl. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I think that was going through my head on I-10 in the beautiful Texas 97 degree heat. Where it get's so bright it's hard to keep my eyes open. That bugs me more than the actual heat feeling. When I had to stop work for the fifth time today to drive in traffic and my phone is buzzing with emails I can't answer and deadlines I'm missing and a growing list of things I wanted to do but can't.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Obstacles</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Between me and the computer</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Or me and home</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Or me and the idea</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Or the idea and the tangible accomplishment</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was thinking I</span><span style="font-size: large;"> want the full story. Every detail. To jump to the end and say there it was. Sometimes I build on the chapter, sometimes the page, sometimes the paragraph, mostly it is sentence by sentence... but some days it's a struggle to think of a word.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I dream this vivid, complex, full story. A big picture. </span><span style="font-size: large;">But how to find the right word to start it? That can be hard, cause at every moment there are all these small intrusions of life. Butting in and making turns and making changes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Obstacles.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And they are bad things, or anybody's fault... they just happen. It doesn't make it less frustrating, just nobodies fault.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Just a rant. For all the self-actualizing dreamers out there. I know you feel it too.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: "crimson text"; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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<i><br /></i>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-35705417747247154942016-06-09T15:10:00.000-05:002016-06-09T15:10:42.150-05:00Black Ribbons Pt 3<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>-Rene</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was the alley after the show.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Moon rising to midnight over clouds, and the heavy, wet air swimming into my lungs</span><span style="font-size: large;">. I feel like it might rain.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>-Where are you going?</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">To the left was main street. The lights of the club front. People wandering from bar to bar and an occasional swoosh of tires against the road. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And to right. A parking garage standing in concrete darkness. And the sounds of words disappearing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>-Nowhere to go. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Knowing the places I don't want to be.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Knowing the places I'd rather be.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>And to be here</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>with no where to go</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Thinking to myself as a streak of sweat fell down from my forehead off my left eyebrow down into my tear duct. I can still remember the sting of the salt.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What are you doing out here?" her voice softly groaned, letting her chords relax, frying in her loose shake.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>- I hadn't seen her there...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> a door across the alley...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Or had I? </i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She was leaning. Though I couldn't see, her bare back to the wall messing with her nails. Hair cut short and jet black. Like her leggings. Like her boots. Like her over-sized jacket wrapped around her waist.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well?" she insisted slowly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">"Just getting air." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One step at a time I left the back door of the club. Feeling a slight breeze run over me. Night. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What are you doing out here?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Waiting."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">And I could feel the sweat on my forehead again. And the cold chill of my shirt wet around from my neck down my chest. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Shows are a sweaty. Tonight more so. The club had decided to bake me under the front lights. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Red and Blue. Heat.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She jumped out into the street, "I thought you were pretty good... considering.</span><span style="font-size: large;">"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I laughed, </span><span style="font-size: large;">"considering."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I usually don't..." shifting left and right, "it's not <i>my </i>kinda music. Plus they had your vocals <i>way </i>too low." She smiled and started to fidget with a bracelet on her left hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Happens I guess. Maybe next time."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">and I saw her bracelet. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Black Ribbons. Fringed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She started walking to the parking lot. "There's a party later tonight."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Of all these places,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>where you'd rather be</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>where you wouldn't</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>there really is only the place you are</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>and the places you are going</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-22561704173463533562016-05-26T15:55:00.001-05:002016-05-26T15:55:22.595-05:00A Quick One<span style="font-size: large;">Hey everybody</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What a week... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Mixing up a little bit of everything, storms, sickness, work, and a whole lot of planning.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>of course writing and rewriting. (a little more than half way through my 2nd full novel idea and that comes in goes in terms of my creativity for it. this week I did get a wave of inspiration about it so yeah!)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything is about planning. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The guys and I in the middle of creating a brand new show. <i>And though I don't have a lot of specifics to share, I can say it'll be something like I have never done before. And that's really exciting. </i>I feel motivated. I feel creative. And ready to share everything we have been working on with the world.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">endless possibilities</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">till next time. when I will pick up this tour story. that's intertwining some of these disparate characters with a larger story. ended up taking more time than I thought. and a new The Weekend Playlist... wooo. also hopefully start this podcast I've been dreaming about.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">ok</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">much love</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5504431208239546353.post-64443614023443474182016-05-21T14:32:00.004-05:002016-05-21T14:32:38.705-05:00Black Ribbons pt 2<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The next twenty minuets found me standing outside the motel. Making a few calls on the phone down my list:<i> Dad, Girlfriend, friends back home, and finally any thing I was missing for work.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was in the middle of texting my girlfriend, about what she did last night when the driver pulled up. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ruh-ne?" he yelled out his passenger window phonetically stretching my name out to it's recognizable limits. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I grabbed my case, he popped the trunk and pointed his thumb, before tapping the Bluetooth connected to his ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He was mid-way through a sentence when he turned around quickly and asked, "The Metro?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah," </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And he was back on the phone, as we took off.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'm just tired of it man. She thinks..." he paused for a minute, listening to the other person as w</span><span style="font-size: large;">e wove through the city, "Yeah, yeah. The sh** she thinks she can just take from me. Take. Take. Take. All she's ever f*in done."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We hit a red light. And I tried looking out the window, block after block of tinted windows, banks, law firms, basically <i>'Nothing to look at,' </i>I sighed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't want to listen, but there wasn't much else going on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">"Ok, Ok, but listen to this remember last Christmas? We did a whole cross promotion thing, and I'm set up for the interview and she's gone man. I mean vanished from the building...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah... and it's not a big deal, I'm thinking, they need this done... exactly, let's get this over with.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He turns the corner slowly and we hit another batch of traffic. I'm waiting for a text from Rachel </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>- you won't believe this car ride I'm on babe.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"So I do the interview they give me gift bags to give to the team. And they give me this extra camera like one big bonus for doing the interview. Yeah, so later I give everybody their bags and don't think anything of it until like 8 months later...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The car comes to a sudden halt. And the guy turns around still talking to his friend and points up ahead at the line of cars and mouths <i>"2 more blocks" </i> as his friend is talking <i>"almost."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i>"Then guess what? She's on about the camera after a meeting... She says, <i>she </i>deserved the camera. And I'm just thinking, what the hell are you talking about? You are serious about a stupid digital camera... Yeah don't you have a phone that can do all this? Just real dumb stuff like that all the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"And, and, and," he stumbles, "the real thing is, I don't care about the camera. It's not like I stole it from her. Just, yeah it never even registered that <i>this </i>would be a thing. You know... <i>This?</i>"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We creep up for two more agonizing blocks. As he goes on and on about this fight he is having with a co-worker. <i>Though I eventually learn somewhere just past the start of the 2nd block, that they were more than co-workers.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a mercy when he finally sets the car in park.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I pay him. And he doesn't look at me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I start walking away from the car towards the venue when I remember the bass is in the truck. And for a second I start to run back, but I see him there. Still yelling about his fight to his friend. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I tap on his window, "I forgot," I didn't even finish the line while I'm pointing to the trunk. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And the driver gets startled. I don't know if he didn't recognize me or maybe it was too unexpected. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Little things. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Unaware.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So many problems come from little things.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">to be cont.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">-rene</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, </em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/c/idyllgreen" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>youtube</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/haciendamusic" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em>facebook</em></a><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> and </em><em style="background-color: white; font-family: 'crimson text'; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/hacienda_tx" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">twitter</a></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">mood: </span><br />
<div id="watch-headline-title" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; display: table; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; table-layout: fixed; width: 824px;">
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<span class="watch-title" dir="ltr" id="eow-title" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" title="Dave Brubeck Quartet - St Louis Blues- Belgium 1964"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Dave Brubeck Quartet - St Louis Blues- Belgium 1964</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>rene vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10721522591914956951noreply@blogger.com0