The Net New Music Community Since 1994
Consciousness and music
Since the advent of quantum physics at the beginning of the 20th century, a new paradigm change has been occurring. The artists developed Cubism in response to Einstein's time space continuum, and computer music began to emerge from Busoni and Varese. Movies began to use time in non-linera fashion. Literature becam surreal. Yet, now matter how many visionary composers we have, musicians always go back to the status quo out of sheer ego and laziness. The other arts excel into new ideas, but music is still debating ii-V-I. Even electronic music now is about spacious beauty followed by some loud bang. Easy on the ears does not do the audience any justice and this is why:
Firstly, let me tell you that the consciousness we all share IS NOT CREATED IN THE BRAIN. CONSCIOUSNESS IS NOT CREATED IN THE BRAIN. CONSCIOUSNESS IS NOT CREATED IN THE BRAIN. That would mean that consciousness is an epiphenomenon to matter, our brains. This is a deterministic Newtonian fallacy that needs to be shattered. Matter responds to our thoughts. End of story. A conscious observer changes the outcome of sub atomic particles and their concomitant behavior. That was proven by Alain Aspect in Paris in 1982. This new paradigm of a probability wave existing in potentia actualizing when a human observes something collapses that particular wave in question into actuality is proof that we are reality makers. Then elephants can fly? Maybe. Why not. But it is not very probable. We are God? yes. The Hindus have been telling us this for 5000 goddamn fucking years. Science = spirit. They are two sides of the same coin.
What does music have to do with this? In order to truly live and be alivew, we must give up our daily conditioning: same thoughts, same TV, same conversation........ We must be creative at all times in order to bypass our conditioning which keeps us asleep. We must write music that wakes our dumb ass UP. Charles Ives unwittingly knew this. He just knew it. So did Cabrillo. It is generally referred to as genius. Genius = WAKE THE FUCK UP. Genius is just the ability to get very creative and original with respect to your conditioned canned responses to life!!
Do you see? STOP THE SAME DRIVEL. Say no to tonality. Risk upsetting a few judges at a competition. Write polytempic music. Say no to that dollar sign that enslaves you and mocks you and puts you back to sleep.
Consciousness, to me, is a universal constant and is undefinable. We all have it. We all do not know what it is. Animals have it too. What is it? Is it non-local? Is it energy? God schmod. It is about consciousness. Does consciousness operate outside of time? Is time a construct of consciousness? (Kant) It interconnects all of us TOGETHER. Jung's Synchronicity is a perfect example of an acausal coincidence concerning a meaningful experience. Was it a separate and detached event? Or did you have something to do with it at some very deep level?
Now, what does music have to do with consciousness? I think music is the most unbiased expression validating a composer's total life experience in a forward moving (4-D?) time based construct streamlining and decorating consciousness.
Firstly, let me tell you that the consciousness we all share IS NOT CREATED IN THE BRAIN. CONSCIOUSNESS IS NOT CREATED IN THE BRAIN. CONSCIOUSNESS IS NOT CREATED IN THE BRAIN. That would mean that consciousness is an epiphenomenon to matter, our brains. This is a deterministic Newtonian fallacy that needs to be shattered. Matter responds to our thoughts. End of story. A conscious observer changes the outcome of sub atomic particles and their concomitant behavior. That was proven by Alain Aspect in Paris in 1982. This new paradigm of a probability wave existing in potentia actualizing when a human observes something collapses that particular wave in question into actuality is proof that we are reality makers. Then elephants can fly? Maybe. Why not. But it is not very probable. We are God? yes. The Hindus have been telling us this for 5000 goddamn fucking years. Science = spirit. They are two sides of the same coin.
What does music have to do with this? In order to truly live and be alivew, we must give up our daily conditioning: same thoughts, same TV, same conversation........ We must be creative at all times in order to bypass our conditioning which keeps us asleep. We must write music that wakes our dumb ass UP. Charles Ives unwittingly knew this. He just knew it. So did Cabrillo. It is generally referred to as genius. Genius = WAKE THE FUCK UP. Genius is just the ability to get very creative and original with respect to your conditioned canned responses to life!!
Do you see? STOP THE SAME DRIVEL. Say no to tonality. Risk upsetting a few judges at a competition. Write polytempic music. Say no to that dollar sign that enslaves you and mocks you and puts you back to sleep.
Consciousness, to me, is a universal constant and is undefinable. We all have it. We all do not know what it is. Animals have it too. What is it? Is it non-local? Is it energy? God schmod. It is about consciousness. Does consciousness operate outside of time? Is time a construct of consciousness? (Kant) It interconnects all of us TOGETHER. Jung's Synchronicity is a perfect example of an acausal coincidence concerning a meaningful experience. Was it a separate and detached event? Or did you have something to do with it at some very deep level?
Now, what does music have to do with consciousness? I think music is the most unbiased expression validating a composer's total life experience in a forward moving (4-D?) time based construct streamlining and decorating consciousness.
Tags: and, consciousness, music
Replies to This Discussion
-
Permalink Reply by Glenn Weyant on -
Is this the old loft with the paint peeling off it, by the Chinese police, where the dogs roll by?
Is this where they keep the philostophers now with the rugs and the dust, where the books go to die?
How many yez got? Say yez got quite a few just sitting around there with nothing to do?
Well I just called yez up cause I wanted to see a philostopher be some assistance to me!
-
Permalink Reply by Glenn Weyant on
-
hell, now that it's rattling around in my head, here's the whole damn thing...
Narrator:
The adventures of GREGGERY PECCARY!
Greggery:
Oh, here comes GREGGERY,
Little GREGGERY PECCARY
The nocturnal gregarious
Wild swine . . .
Narrator:
A peccary is a little pig with a white collar that usually hangs around between Texas and Paraguay, sometimes ranging as far west as Catalina
Greggery:
Catalina, Catalina, Catalina!
Narrator:
This particular peccary is part of that bold . . .
Greggery:
Bold . . .
Narrator:
New . . .
Greggery:
New . . .
Narrator:
Breed . . .
Greggery:
Breeding . . .
Narrator:
That distinguishes itself by markings which resemble a WIDE TIE directly below the white collar
Greggery:
If it's wide enough
Everyone will know
That the tie I'm wearing
Is a symbol
Of how nimble my mind will know
Ooh-ooh!
Narrator:
(Swank suave!)
Greggery:
Hoon-hoon hoonna-han
Hoonna hoonna
Narrator:
Look out!
Here he comes again!
Greggery:
Oh here comes GREGGERY PECCARY
Yes it's cravy, cravy, yeah . . .
Hoonna-han
Hoonna-han
Narrator:
Every morning, GREGGERY drives his little red Volkswagen to the ugly part of town where they keep the Government Buildings.
Greggery:
Voodn, Voodn!
Boy it's so hard to find a place to park around here!
Voo-voo-voo-nya-hoon
Narrator:
GREGGERY PECCARY takes the elevator up to the eighty-third floor of a grim, gray, evil-looking building with a sign on the front reading: 'BIG SWIFTY & ASSOCIATES, TREND-MONGERS'.
And what, might you ask, is a TREND MONGER? Well, a TREND MONGER is a person who dreams up a TREND (like 'The Twist' ---or 'Flower Power'), and spreads it throughout the land, using all the frightening little skills that Science has made available!
And so it was, one fateful morning, GREGGERY PECCARY made his way through the Steno Pool . . .
Greggery:
Hi Mildred!
Hello Gladys!
WANDA!
Narrator:
Yes, from the moment they laid eyes on him, all the girls in the BIG SWIFTY Steno Pool KNEW . . . here was a nocturnal, gregarious wild swine ON HIS WAY UP . . . a PECCARY of Destiny, Adventure and ROMANCE . . .
Greggery:
Is there any mail for me?
Stenographers:
SWIFTY'S!
THIS IS BIG SWIFTY'S!
AT BIG SWIFTY'S WE ALL KNOW-OW-OW
(WO-WO)
YOU'LL GO
FOR ANY GIMMICK OR GIZMO!
Greggery:
WOULDN'T YOU RATHER BE INVOLVED
IN A SERIES OF COLORFUL
TIME-WASTING TRENDS?
Narrator:
AIR HOCKEY . . . biff . . . dush-h-h!
Stenographers:
LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
IS YOUR WIFE SNORING BY THE SINK?
Stenographers:
LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
AIN'T YOUR LIFE BORING, DON'TCHA THINK?
Stenographers:
YOUP YOUP YOUP-YOUP-YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER
WHEN THERE'S SOME LITTLE SOMETHING
TO DO!
Narrator:
Does it matter that this waste of time is what makes a LIFE for you? Hmmmmm?
Greggery:
I must plummet boldly forward to my ultra-avant laminated, simulated replica-mahogany desk, with the strategically-placed, imported, very hip water pipe, and the latest edition of the WHOLE EARTH CATALOG, and rack my agile mind for a spectacular new TREND, thereby rejuvenating our limping economy, and providing for bored & miserable people everywhere some great new 'THING' to identify with!
Stenographers:
WE HAVE GOT THE LITTLE ANSWERS
TO THE THINGS
THAT MIGHT BE BOTHERING YOU!
Greggery:
WE HAVE GOT YOUR LITTLE TOYS!
Stenographers:
(WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM!)
BUSY MAKIN' 'EM,
WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM
Greggery:
BUSY MAKIN' EM
Stenographers:
JUST FOR YOU!
Yoo-hoo-hoo!
Greggery:
Highly efficient, Miss Snodgrass!
Narrator:
And with that, GREGGERY turned and strode nonchalantly into his dinky little office with the desk and the catalog and the very hip water pipe, and proceeded, with a vigor and determination known only to piglets of a similarly diminutive proportion, to single-handedly invent THE CALENDAR!
With his eyes rolled heaven-ward, and his little shiny pig-hoofs on the desk, GREGGERY ponders the question of ETERNITY (and fractional divisions thereof), as mysterious ANGELIC VOICES sing to him from a great distance, providing the necessary clues for the construction of this thrilling new TREND!
Angelic Voices:
SUNDAY
Greggery:
Sunday?
WOW!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY . . . TUESDAY THROUGH
'MONDAY - MONDAY'!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY
Narrator:
And thus THE CALENDAR, in all of its colorful disguises was presented to the bored & miserable people everywhere!
GREGGERY issued a memo on it, whereupon the entire contents of the Steno Pool identified with it STRENUOUSLY, and WORSHIPPED IT as a WAY OF LIFE, and took their little pills by it, and went back 'n forth from work by it, and paid their rent by it, and before long they were even having BIRTHDAY PARTIES IN THE OFFICE by it, because NOW, AT LAST, GREGGERY PECCARY's exciting new invention had made it possible for everyone to find out HOW OLD THEY WERE!
Greggery:
What hath GOD wrought?
Narrator:
Unfortunately, there were some people who simply DID NOT WISH TO KNOW, and that's why, on his way home from the office one night, GREGGERY was attacked by a RAGE OF HUNCHMEN!
Making his way through the evening traffic, GREGGERY notices that the other vehicles which crowd and bump his little red car are all inhabited by slowly-aging 'VERY HIP YOUNG PEOPLE.'
They appear to be casting sinister glances toward him through their glinting acid burn-out eyeballs, trying to run him off the road, or make him bump into something . . . giving strong evidence of HOSTILE AGGRESSION!
To elude them, GREGGERY takes the SHORT FOREST EXIT off the expressway. They zoom after him in all manner of cars, trucks, garishly-painted buses, and motorcycles.
GREGGERY takes a bumpy trail off the main SHORT FOREST ROAD, which leads him up the side of a FAMOUS (and conveniently placed) MOUNTAIN, and into a strange cave on the edge of a cliff, not far from a LITTLE TWISTED TREE . . . with eyes on it.
Meanwhile, the enraged HUNCHMEN (and HUNCH-WOMEN) rumble through the SHORT FOREST until (realizing the little swine has escaped), they decide to park their steaming vehicles in a circular pseudo-Wagon Train formation . . . and have a LOVE-IN!
Under the influence of a fantastic amount of TRENDY CHEMICAL AMUSEMENT AID, they proceed to perform lewd acts, rip each other off for small personal possessions, and dance with depraved abandon in the vicinity of a six-foot pile of transistor radios (each one tuned to a different station).
Greggery:
WHAT?
Narrator:
The HUNCHMEN finally expire from exhaustion, and GREGGERY, who has viewed the proceedings from a safe distance, breathes a sigh of relief . . .
Greggery:
Phew!
Narrator:
Only to be terrified once again by a roar of immense laughter . . .
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
Which seems to be rumbling up from the very depths of the cave in which he has hidden his car!
Greggery:
Good Lord! What was that?
Narrator:
GREGGERY doesn't realize he has concealed himself inside the very mouth of
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
BILLY THE MOUNTAIN!
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
And, as you all know, whenever BILLY laughs, rocks and boulders hack up, and the air for miles around is filled with tons of dust, forming a series of huge BROWN CLOUDS!
Greggery:
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
BETTER ASK A PHILOSTOPHER 'N SEE WHAT HE SAYS!
Narrator:
GREGGERY stops at a gas station and makes a mysterious phone call . . .
Greggery:
IS THIS THE OLD LOFT
WITH THE PAINT PEELIN' OFF IT
BY THE CHINESE POLICE
WHERE THE DOGS ROLL BY?
IS THIS WHERE THEY KEEP
THE PHILOSTOPHERS NOW,
WITH THE RUGS & THE DUST,
WHERE THE BOOKS GO TO DIE?
HOW MANY YEZ GOT?
SAY YEZ GOT QUITE A FEW,
JUST SITTIN' AROUND THERE
WITH NOTHIN' TO DO?
WELL I JUST CALLED YEZ UP
'CAUSE I WANTED TO SEE
A PHILOSTOPHER BE
OF ASSISTANCE TO ME!
Narrator:
GREGGERY receives information that 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind' is currently in possession of the very information in question, and, furthermore, this information could be HIS, if only GREGGERY would attend a 'SPECIAL THERAPEUTIC GROUP ASSEMBLY' (Classes now forming), and available at a special low low introductory fee . . . and now, here he is, 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind', QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND! Take it away!
Quentin:
Folks, as you can see for yourself, the way this clock over here is behaving, TIME IS OF AFFLICTION! Now this might be cause for alarm among a portion of you, as, from a certain experience, I TEND TO PROCLAIM: 'THE EONS ARE CLOSING'!
Narrator:
Make your checks payable to 'QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND, Greatest Living Philostopher Known to Mankind'!
Greggery:
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
IF YOU ASK A PHILOSTOPHER, HE'LL SEE
THAT YOU PAYS!
-
Permalink Reply by Joseph Benzola on
-
WOW!!!!! Where did you find the oratorio for this? I'm sure you were not crazy enough to transcribe this. What am I saying, of course you would be! One of my favorite zappa pieces of all time.
Glenn Weyant said:hell, now that it's rattling around in my head, here's the whole damn thing...
Narrator:
The adventures of GREGGERY PECCARY!
Greggery:
Oh, here comes GREGGERY,
Little GREGGERY PECCARY
The nocturnal gregarious
Wild swine . . .
Narrator:
A peccary is a little pig with a white collar that usually hangs around between Texas and Paraguay, sometimes ranging as far west as Catalina
Greggery:
Catalina, Catalina, Catalina!
Narrator:
This particular peccary is part of that bold . . .
Greggery:
Bold . . .
Narrator:
New . . .
Greggery:
New . . .
Narrator:
Breed . . .
Greggery:
Breeding . . .
Narrator:
That distinguishes itself by markings which resemble a WIDE TIE directly below the white collar
Greggery:
If it's wide enough
Everyone will know
That the tie I'm wearing
Is a symbol
Of how nimble my mind will know
Ooh-ooh!
Narrator:
(Swank suave!)
Greggery:
Hoon-hoon hoonna-han
Hoonna hoonna
Narrator:
Look out!
Here he comes again!
Greggery:
Oh here comes GREGGERY PECCARY
Yes it's cravy, cravy, yeah . . .
Hoonna-han
Hoonna-han
Narrator:
Every morning, GREGGERY drives his little red Volkswagen to the ugly part of town where they keep the Government Buildings.
Greggery:
Voodn, Voodn!
Boy it's so hard to find a place to park around here!
Voo-voo-voo-nya-hoon
Narrator:
GREGGERY PECCARY takes the elevator up to the eighty-third floor of a grim, gray, evil-looking building with a sign on the front reading: 'BIG SWIFTY & ASSOCIATES, TREND-MONGERS'.
And what, might you ask, is a TREND MONGER? Well, a TREND MONGER is a person who dreams up a TREND (like 'The Twist' ---or 'Flower Power'), and spreads it throughout the land, using all the frightening little skills that Science has made available!
And so it was, one fateful morning, GREGGERY PECCARY made his way through the Steno Pool . . .
Greggery:
Hi Mildred!
Hello Gladys!
WANDA!
Narrator:
Yes, from the moment they laid eyes on him, all the girls in the BIG SWIFTY Steno Pool KNEW . . . here was a nocturnal, gregarious wild swine ON HIS WAY UP . . . a PECCARY of Destiny, Adventure and ROMANCE . . .
Greggery:
Is there any mail for me?
Stenographers:
SWIFTY'S!
THIS IS BIG SWIFTY'S!
AT BIG SWIFTY'S WE ALL KNOW-OW-OW
(WO-WO)
YOU'LL GO
FOR ANY GIMMICK OR GIZMO!
Greggery:
WOULDN'T YOU RATHER BE INVOLVED
IN A SERIES OF COLORFUL
TIME-WASTING TRENDS?
Narrator:
AIR HOCKEY . . . biff . . . dush-h-h!
Stenographers:
LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
IS YOUR WIFE SNORING BY THE SINK?
Stenographers:
LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
AIN'T YOUR LIFE BORING, DON'TCHA THINK?
Stenographers:
YOUP YOUP YOUP-YOUP-YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER
WHEN THERE'S SOME LITTLE SOMETHING
TO DO!
Narrator:
Does it matter that this waste of time is what makes a LIFE for you? Hmmmmm?
Greggery:
I must plummet boldly forward to my ultra-avant laminated, simulated replica-mahogany desk, with the strategically-placed, imported, very hip water pipe, and the latest edition of the WHOLE EARTH CATALOG, and rack my agile mind for a spectacular new TREND, thereby rejuvenating our limping economy, and providing for bored & miserable people everywhere some great new 'THING' to identify with!
Stenographers:
WE HAVE GOT THE LITTLE ANSWERS
TO THE THINGS
THAT MIGHT BE BOTHERING YOU!
Greggery:
WE HAVE GOT YOUR LITTLE TOYS!
Stenographers:
(WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM!)
BUSY MAKIN' 'EM,
WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM
Greggery:
BUSY MAKIN' EM
Stenographers:
JUST FOR YOU!
Yoo-hoo-hoo!
Greggery:
Highly efficient, Miss Snodgrass!
Narrator:
And with that, GREGGERY turned and strode nonchalantly into his dinky little office with the desk and the catalog and the very hip water pipe, and proceeded, with a vigor and determination known only to piglets of a similarly diminutive proportion, to single-handedly invent THE CALENDAR!
With his eyes rolled heaven-ward, and his little shiny pig-hoofs on the desk, GREGGERY ponders the question of ETERNITY (and fractional divisions thereof), as mysterious ANGELIC VOICES sing to him from a great distance, providing the necessary clues for the construction of this thrilling new TREND!
Angelic Voices:
SUNDAY
Greggery:
Sunday?
WOW!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY . . . TUESDAY THROUGH
'MONDAY - MONDAY'!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY
Narrator:
And thus THE CALENDAR, in all of its colorful disguises was presented to the bored & miserable people everywhere!
GREGGERY issued a memo on it, whereupon the entire contents of the Steno Pool identified with it STRENUOUSLY, and WORSHIPPED IT as a WAY OF LIFE, and took their little pills by it, and went back 'n forth from work by it, and paid their rent by it, and before long they were even having BIRTHDAY PARTIES IN THE OFFICE by it, because NOW, AT LAST, GREGGERY PECCARY's exciting new invention had made it possible for everyone to find out HOW OLD THEY WERE!
Greggery:
What hath GOD wrought?
Narrator:
Unfortunately, there were some people who simply DID NOT WISH TO KNOW, and that's why, on his way home from the office one night, GREGGERY was attacked by a RAGE OF HUNCHMEN!
Making his way through the evening traffic, GREGGERY notices that the other vehicles which crowd and bump his little red car are all inhabited by slowly-aging 'VERY HIP YOUNG PEOPLE.'
They appear to be casting sinister glances toward him through their glinting acid burn-out eyeballs, trying to run him off the road, or make him bump into something . . . giving strong evidence of HOSTILE AGGRESSION!
To elude them, GREGGERY takes the SHORT FOREST EXIT off the expressway. They zoom after him in all manner of cars, trucks, garishly-painted buses, and motorcycles.
GREGGERY takes a bumpy trail off the main SHORT FOREST ROAD, which leads him up the side of a FAMOUS (and conveniently placed) MOUNTAIN, and into a strange cave on the edge of a cliff, not far from a LITTLE TWISTED TREE . . . with eyes on it.
Meanwhile, the enraged HUNCHMEN (and HUNCH-WOMEN) rumble through the SHORT FOREST until (realizing the little swine has escaped), they decide to park their steaming vehicles in a circular pseudo-Wagon Train formation . . . and have a LOVE-IN!
Under the influence of a fantastic amount of TRENDY CHEMICAL AMUSEMENT AID, they proceed to perform lewd acts, rip each other off for small personal possessions, and dance with depraved abandon in the vicinity of a six-foot pile of transistor radios (each one tuned to a different station).
Greggery:
WHAT?
Narrator:
The HUNCHMEN finally expire from exhaustion, and GREGGERY, who has viewed the proceedings from a safe distance, breathes a sigh of relief . . .
Greggery:
Phew!
Narrator:
Only to be terrified once again by a roar of immense laughter . . .
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
Which seems to be rumbling up from the very depths of the cave in which he has hidden his car!
Greggery:
Good Lord! What was that?
Narrator:
GREGGERY doesn't realize he has concealed himself inside the very mouth of
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
BILLY THE MOUNTAIN!
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
And, as you all know, whenever BILLY laughs, rocks and boulders hack up, and the air for miles around is filled with tons of dust, forming a series of huge BROWN CLOUDS!
Greggery:
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
BETTER ASK A PHILOSTOPHER 'N SEE WHAT HE SAYS!
Narrator:
GREGGERY stops at a gas station and makes a mysterious phone call . . .
Greggery:
IS THIS THE OLD LOFT
WITH THE PAINT PEELIN' OFF IT
BY THE CHINESE POLICE
WHERE THE DOGS ROLL BY?
IS THIS WHERE THEY KEEP
THE PHILOSTOPHERS NOW,
WITH THE RUGS & THE DUST,
WHERE THE BOOKS GO TO DIE?
HOW MANY YEZ GOT?
SAY YEZ GOT QUITE A FEW,
JUST SITTIN' AROUND THERE
WITH NOTHIN' TO DO?
WELL I JUST CALLED YEZ UP
'CAUSE I WANTED TO SEE
A PHILOSTOPHER BE
OF ASSISTANCE TO ME!
Narrator:
GREGGERY receives information that 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind' is currently in possession of the very information in question, and, furthermore, this information could be HIS, if only GREGGERY would attend a 'SPECIAL THERAPEUTIC GROUP ASSEMBLY' (Classes now forming), and available at a special low low introductory fee . . . and now, here he is, 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind', QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND! Take it away!
Quentin:
Folks, as you can see for yourself, the way this clock over here is behaving, TIME IS OF AFFLICTION! Now this might be cause for alarm among a portion of you, as, from a certain experience, I TEND TO PROCLAIM: 'THE EONS ARE CLOSING'!
Narrator:
Make your checks payable to 'QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND, Greatest Living Philostopher Known to Mankind'!
Greggery:
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
IF YOU ASK A PHILOSTOPHER, HE'LL SEE
THAT YOU PAYS!
-
Permalink Reply by peter thoegersen on -
Hey, if you all have to be Republicans and inflict me with your conservatism (calling me names like Gregory Peccary), that's fine, but i wouldnt mind someone responding who actually gives a shit about what I put out there. Trend? I dont see any trends in music and consciousness. I'm not talking about New Age shit. I'm trying to talk to all of you about real goddamn consciousness. Besides hurling insults at me, what do you actually think?
Prediction: This whole thread is gonna turn into a Zappa thread. (I love Zappa, He was from California, and a real liberal like me).
-
Permalink Reply by Glenn Weyant on
-
--- Besides hurling insults at me, what do you actually think?
apologies.
no harm meant.
i read your post and for some weird reason thought of 'QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND, Greatest Living Philostopher Known to Mankind'!
wasn't meant as anything serious.
i usually drown in the shallow end before getting too deep.
let's hear more about: forward moving (4-D?) time based construct streamlining.
peace and carry on...
-
Permalink Reply by peter thoegersen on
-
If God's dumb, we're all dumb (and a little ugly on the side)
-
Permalink Reply by Jay C. Batzner on -
It seems to me that telling others what music to write defies the point of mindfulness. Shouldn't we be mindful of what our own music needs to be? And treat other musics, those that we do not write, with respect? Are we not all interconnected? Without tonality, there can be no atonality. Without a groove, there can be no metric shenanigans.
We are all parts of the same thing. My approach to mindfulness and consciousness in my composition is to truly listen to what I want to write and not be burdened by the thoughts of what others tell me I ought to be doing (like competition judges, for one).
Maybe I am misunderstanding your use of "consciousness." Maybe this will be interpreted as "new age." Like I said, this is my approach. Substitute your own as needed. ;)
-
Permalink Reply by Steve Layton on -
Jay, I'm never going to mistake you for Yanni. ;-)
Jay C. Batzner said:It seems to me that telling others what music to write defies the point of mindfulness. Shouldn't we be mindful of what our own music needs to be? And treat other musics, those that we do not write, with respect? Are we not all interconnected? Without tonality, there can be no atonality. Without a groove, there can be no metric shenanigans.
We are all parts of the same thing. My approach to mindfulness and consciousness in my composition is to truly listen to what I want to write and not be burdened by the thoughts of what others tell me I ought to be doing (like competition judges, for one).
Maybe I am misunderstanding your use of "consciousness." Maybe this will be interpreted as "new age." Like I said, this is my approach. Substitute your own as needed. ;)
-
Permalink Reply by Jay C. Batzner on
-
I have shorter hair.
-
Permalink Reply by John "Sparky" Prokop on -
peter thoegersen said:If God's dumb, we're all dumb (and a little ugly on the side)
And who ARE the Brain Police?
-
Permalink Reply by Jay C. Batzner on
-
I think I know where I could find the dream police. They live inside my head.
John "Sparky" Prokop said:peter thoegersen said:If God's dumb, we're all dumb (and a little ugly on the side)
And who ARE the Brain Police?
-
Permalink Reply by John "Sparky" Prokop on
-
Jay C. Batzner said:I think I know where I could find the dream police. They live inside my head.
Well, THAT was a cheap trick!
About
Badge
© 2009 Created by Jeff Harrington on Ning. Create a Ning Network!
