M is for Myg

Live your god damned dream

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Today in History

You already know the story. We scampered into our dens, hiding from the ashen skies. I shared mine with a little dicynodont. I saw you across the plain, scared and twitching.

Now everything is killing us. That cat litter’s on sale. It’s the 5th already and I haven’t paid rent. Don’t forget to water the plants. At least it’s inventory day tomorrow — I won’t have to talk to customers. I move through the labyrinth. I look for sunlight. I sniff the air and listen. I try that new whitening toothpaste.

You see, we all thought that when the next apocalypse came, we’d be ready. You had those extra cans of refried beans and a shotgun. I welded spikes on the front of my Escort. But the apocalypse snuck up on us, you know. It’s been happening for a while. We missed the signs. There was silence in heaven for about half an hour.

It’s not too late. We need to find each other. Remember how it was? The hawk faltered in its dive for prey. I’m not trying to be nostalgic, but I felt alive then. Every second I felt alive.

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Once More unto the Breach

All things come back to me: dry lightning on the prairie; how they threw Hun Hunahpú’s head into a calabash tree because he played soccer too loudly; how you made me feel that first time. I let that homeless guy stay at my place and the couch never smelled right again.

Do you hear me? I don’t know why the Americans are here. My brother was killed by a bomb. I held my sister back so she wouldn’t see the body; she screamed and her fingernails clawed my face.

My father’s own father was hardly a good man. You could say he loved his family in a certain way, but he was a gambler and had a temperament not suited for domestic responsibilities. One night my grandmother met him in the doorway with a boning knife. She had packed his dufflebag with neatly folded shirts.

Why do I tell you these things? It’s because you felt hurt. I just remembered that you’re human and that these things matter to you. All the fighting. It can’t be easy. Tell me how the Tapirapé paint their bodies. Tell me how the airplanes came, dropping whiskey, and guns, and crisp dollar bills. I will listen and everything will be all right.

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What Ever Happened to Esteban Moody?

Snapshot_003
Dear You,

It seems like a long time. It seems like a very long time. Well, for you, at least. The truth is that for me it’s been a few days, tops.

I was sent on a mission. It’s a secret. It’s a space mission, and I travel faster than the speed of light. For me, a second ticks by like clockwork, but months pass for you. I’m sorry I didn’t say good bye, but I needed to get to the future–fast. I’ll be back on October 13, 4772. The falcon told me. My mother’s mother fed me the blood-caked corn, but I am grown now. Oh, it’s not a secret, really: I just need to save the world again.

As always, I need your help. The GPS went out on this thing, and I need to find my way back. Put a candle in your window, will you? I’m millions of miles away by now, and all the little specks look the same. Is that Earth or A1689-zD1? The light won’t help—I’m moving too fast for that—but love travels faster than anything.

Love,

Esteban

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Say What?

Words, words, words. I am a dolphin, arching joyfully out of the sea. I write a letter to Cardinal Richelieu, warning of the conspiracy against him. I can get a bucket at the dollar store, maybe something for the kid. Everything is made of signs.

Where do they come from? Thrice-great Hermes brought hieroglyphs in his tattered suitcase. Coal comes from the mountains. Buckets come from the dollar store. Life comes from the sun. There’s no digging for words. You can’t get them at the dollar store. The sun vanishes at night. They come too fast to really choose them, right? So it’s not rational. They just “come to you”: switchblade, metropolis, caravan, jalapeño. Different ones come to you than come to me. I chiseled mine in the tombs of pharaohs. Yours come from a can of spray paint. Where would we be without them?

I would be a bluejay or a beetle on the jungle floor; without words, nothing would define us. I know this because I live in the future, where the lion lies down with the lamb. All the old words have been forgotten, and we live without metaphor because everything is possible.

[thanks to Guen for the wordle.]

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Funk Me; It’s Friday | 11 July 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Karl Hector and the Malcouns: Rush Hour
Lefties Soul Connection: Loose Change
The Meters: Funky Miracle
Run-D.M.C.: Walk This Way
Morris Day & The Time: Jungle Love
Hercules And Love Affair: Raise Me Up
C Smalls & Co: The Buzzard
Little Jackie: 28 Butts
Lester Young & the California Playboys: Funky Funky Horse
Keith Mansfield Orchestra: Soul Confusion
Asiko Rock Group: Lagos City
Black On White Affair: A Bunch of Changes
Brother Jack McDuff: Theme from Electric Surfboard
The Counts: Sacrifice
The Fame Gang: Spooky
Cymande: Fug
Jimmy Smith & Kenny Burrell: Chitlins Con Carne
Toussaint McCall: Shimmy
Backyard Heavies: Expo 83
Irma Thomas: Time Is On My Side

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Declaration of Independence

Sticklebacks have no scales. They are bottom-dwellers. The male fashions a nest from algae and dead grasses. A quorum was called, and they voted to form their own union.

It works for fish and birds; it works for ants and ungulates. It works for us, except when it goes horribly wrong. Remember how it was, roaming over the steppe, chipping flint into arrowheads, smoothing clay into vessels? We smelled like wet dogs. There weren’t millions of us. I don’t think we had TVs. We hashed it out, voted with our grunts. Then it got bad for a long time: the big armies, crowded cities. Some of us were slaves. The rain fell on Columbus Avenue and we built pyramids and ocean liners. They told us what to do.

Then one day we figured it all out. Everyone had enough to eat. Those who were slaves were free from slavery and those who were free were free from their ridiculous freedom. Twenty kinds of dish soap! We shot our rifles into the air and threw them in the river. Fireworks cascaded down the black dome of night on every planet we had pissed on.

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Funk Me; It’s Friday | 4 July 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Regal: The Mack (Club Edit)
Pacific Rhythm Combo: Honky Tonk Popcorn
The Backyard Heavies: Soul Junction
Reginald Milton & The Soul Jets: Clap Your Hands
Cyesm: Funky brother
Layo & Bushwacka!: Sleepy Language
Fuku Syndicate: Pussylovers
Ludditák: Glória
Hidden Cost: Bo Did It
Sebastian Williams: Get Your Point Over
The Fun Company: Zambezi
Sandy Gaye: Watch The Dog
Keisa Brown: The Dance Man
Amnesty: Mister President
The New Mastersounds: Idle Time (Lack Of Afro Remix)
James Brown: I Guess I’ll Have To Cry, Cry, Cry

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Do You Believe In Me?

Do you believe in me? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t; sometimes I don’t believe in myself. For a while, it seemed like the logical conclusion. Do you believe in Esteban Moody? I dunno; do you believe in Barbie? Barbie? Which Barbie? Fashion model Barbie? Beach Barbie? Veterinarian Barbie? It makes a difference.

But then, you know, on the days when I didn’t believe in myself it was hard to get going in the morning. Why get going when you’re just a made-up something? I’d get all my sides together and head down to the club, but then I’d think fuck it, Esteban, why bother if you don’t even exist?

Does this ever happen to you? You just can’t believe your own atoms are impinging upon others? You move like a ghost — it’s great to be able to move through walls, i guess, but then again no one notices you and you can’t pick anything up? Kind of a double-edged sword.

So first I tried only hanging out with people who believed in me. Hey, I thought, if you think I’m just some paper cut-out, you know, some kind of token in a game, well fuck you, asshole! I don’t believe in your ass either! it felt good to be around people who believed in me, and, frankly, I was a more productive human being (if that’s what I am).

But, you know, after a time, I realized that I couldn’t ignore it forever. After all, how long before it caught up with me, you know, like someone doesn’t offer me a job because they don’t believe in me, or I can’t get a loan for a new ride? I needed to swim toward the sharks on this one. Probably, I thought, they don’t believe in you, Esteban, because they’re insecure. They don’t believe in themselves.

So this one’s going out to all of you, you unbelievers. You can’t stop me because, well, I goddamn believe in myself, but more importantly because I believe in you. I don’t care what you’ve thought or said in the past. The truth is I not only believe in you, but I believe in all your hidden fantasies of what kind of world we can build if we just believe in each other. Not everyone needs to be a Barbie, you know.

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Worth a Thousand Words

Funk Me; It’s Friday | 27 June 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Don Wright & The Housebreakers: Corn Bread
The Braids: Young Americans
Sylvia Striplin: Give Me Your Love
Peter Brown feat. Betty Wright background vocals: Dance With Me
Al Hudson & the Soul Partners: How Do You Do
Hidden Strength: Hustle On Up (Do the Bump)
Los Amigos Invisibles: Mi Linda
Dyke & The Blazers: Funky Walk Part I (East)
Dyke & The Blazers: Funky Walk Part II (West)
Illya Kuryaki & The Valderramas: Jaguar House
Famous Chromes: Groove On
Chicago Gangsters: Gangster Love
Control Machete: Humanos Mexicanos
James Brown: The Payback
Mexican Institute of Sound: La la La
Betty Wright: Girls Can’t Do What The Guys Do
Sister Josephine James: I’m Glad

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With Friends Like These

Thanks to everyone who came out to Clockwork on Friday for a dose of the heavy funk:

Crap
Walden
GoSpeed
cranach
nutty
Eucalyptus
dandellion
Romana
Daila
Rufus
Garrett
Sarashina
Roobus
Junaid

See you all soon!
Love,

Esteban
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Funk Me; It’s Friday | 20 June 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

The People’s Choice: I Likes To Do It
The Capitols: Soul Brother, Soul Sister
JC Davis: Coconut Brown
WQLJ: Nothiin’ Doin’ But Waitin’ On Leon
Mantronix: King of the Beats
The Bar-Kays: Is the Party Tight
Pearl Dowdell: Good Thing
Lee Fields: Problems
The Dap-Kings: Nervous Like Me
Magnificent Opinions: We’ll Be Jamming All Night Long
Wilton Place Street Band: Disco Lucy
The Hot Stuffs: Mr. Hot Stuff
Jimmy McGriff: Fat Cakes
Winnie: Put Your Pants On
James Brown: After You Done It
Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings: How Long Do I Have To Wait For You (Instrumental)
The Soul Merchants: For: “Wes”
Funkadelic: A Joyful Process
Aretha Franklin: Lean On Me

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