Lyrics from animation “The Red”

This is the story of the man who wanted to steal the color red 

He thought the substance to be his in every right of the word

Obviously the debris of a gimmick with simpleton musk 

But he always said shit’ll go bust if the kids ever grow up

Fuck all the hollering and spitting this one is mine 

So we go So we go So we go So we go 

When he pitched the idea all the hisses agreed 

But only between the flickering images on the screen 

Other than that they went on and on about grievances, bitches and thugs  

So he didn’t need ‘em, who the fuck would?  

Hates on everybody who ever claimed they understood.

Ran a crayon red across a mountain’s mouth, it would be nothing 

She could just as easily starve you or be what you eat  

He doesn’t care, it’s in his nails, in all denominations

Hourly, it’s everything he be.  

But the red, the red, the red the red the red.  

That’s what is mine, and not ours.  

The tyrant thugs still calling their scars our stars.  

Now be it in Mariana’s trench or on Sandia’s Crest I’m gonna plug the red who plundered me.  

All I got to do is hum the gust in the high noon breeze, and thus thrust my thunder sings. 

It will be Simple.

and If my sloth impedes and my froze track fractals get blocked by matrices 

Patiently PhD’s play the sleeve

Now go on ahead and feed your shiver wakes for the sake of Pete.  

The Floundering flowers got a gun, always down to shoot it and run

They crush the bug 

And if it ain’t you

Then someone’s love, someone’s son, someone’s done! 

Someone’s FU Fu Fucked!

But your chains sing like...I don’t care

And the rain howls like...I don’t care

I highly doubt it

Tony

The tail he tells that always stuck to me is one of God and Gold. He was up in Hopewell Lake scouting for signs of elk, with his same crossbow. While scouting he came upon some men mining for gold. Hopewell Lake is located up by Brazos Peak, up by Rio Arriba. There the men had a placer set up: basically a high-pressure hose that washes out and exposes gold. He made conversation with the old miners; they began to talk about their craft and why they were way up there to begin with. Tony learned that gold tumbles down stream and settles in large pools of water. When the gold settles, it sinks to the bottom of everything. This guy told him that you find the gold by listening to the water. When you hear a distinctly different gurgling sound, which is a sign that gold is in the water. A very unusual sound and easily identified.

So Tony takes to the streams to listen for the gurgling. After a few miles, he is drawn to a still pool where a distinct murmur could be heard. He looks in the pool and sees a rock that resembles swiss cheese. So he retrieves one of the rocks and immediately noticed how heavy it is. He pulls it out of the water to find that it is weighed down with gold. Tony was not well off financially, so this was more than just any discovery. He needed the money desperately. So needless to say, he was overjoyed. He thought to himself “You know, I bet there is more gold down there.” So he reached down and, sure enough, there was more gold!

“I couldn’t believe it! I was rich!”

And without the slightest change in his overjoyed tone he says:

“But, God told me to put it back, so I was like, welp! That’s that. And I put the gold back. Didn’t take a single bit, not even for memory’s sake! And trust me, I needed it. But God said no, and I put it all back and walked away and never looked back.” He told me that right after that, his luck changed and he started to make money and get work. He built his Grandmother a house outside of Penasco and then built his “dream house” nearby. That is all there is to this story… Last I heard of him, he had threatened his stepbrothers with an ox-blade for smoking weed in front of his Grandmother.

X Marks the Spot

He sang

so traveler

how you look for ruby chances with bled hands and lanterns

your right stumbles like the left dances

gritty guide when west answers

now soul can finally digest

the feet can hold ground the hands can mold earth

cut the prey or alarm the outsider in her dark cave

lost pearl

Dear Boss,

I am writing to you from a bench in Tompkins Square Park.

I will of course take claim that it was never a game, but that I had made great resolution.

A life of action is what you inspired.

My passions are being chucked back!

They root in the company. It is interesting.

Sometimes when I make, I feel like choking.

I suppose the soul is rediscovered according to environment.

All the same value, under a seemingly seamless breath of labor.

I am full here boss.

AH! yes!

We are proud, but without hope.

There is nothing more painful to witness than a tragic greatness.

“Now shut up! I don’t want to lose my good humor.”

Always,

yours

Tony

The time of the year is mid September, the end of the growing season. He has found the perfect place in the mountains, outside of Tres Piedras, about 2.5 to 3 miles through the forest, in a very remote spot in the mountains. It is a good sized, flat Mesa with a large pond at the base, about 100 yards from the top.

The location was off the highway, out of TP. This is up from the bottom of the road, towards Brazos peak. It is the road to Hopewell Lake, where he once spoke to a miner about gold and gurgling water.

At one end of the pond there is a relatively sophisticated solar water pump with a buried water line running to the top of the Mesa, for the obvious purpose of watering these beautiful 8-10 foot high plants with unbelievably huge collitas.

So, he is out there completely outfitted with his bow, arrows and camouflage hunting outfit, allegedly looking for Elk sign (like scats and footprints), in preparation for the Elk season, which is just a month away. He has his bow and arrow because he is also practicing his aim by shooting rabbits and such. The perfect disguise and the perfect reason for being out there. He is also checking out the harvest to figure out when to take the crop and how to maximize the weight of the beautiful plants.

Anyway he is up there working, checking it all out, when this unbelievable rain and thunder, no visibility-type storm befalls him and he is caught in a major downpour. He crawls under some plastic that was there for the greenhouse, to protect himself from the rain. He goes to sleep and is awoken by the sound of a helicopter. He of course panics and runs out from under the plastic. Looking up, he sees the helicopter and heads towards the other end of the field, where there is a cliff. Then he sees two hummer type vehicles with about 8 guys in the trucks, driving up a forest service road. He gets caught. No escape; 375 plants, sleeping in the field.

He goes to trial. His defense is he was out scouting for hunting elk and looking for elk sign when he noticed the pump across the little pad and went over to investigate. He looks at the pump and sees where the line is running, following the water line to the marijuana plantation. What a discovery. Then the police helicopter sees his red-feathered arrows and begins to hover over them. He runs out, caught like a rat in a trap. The Police claimed when they arrived at the location, they found footprints all over the territory, but the rain washed out the footprints. Tony disagreed. He said no, the prints would have been set in the mud because of the rain, yet there were no prints there. Therefore the cops were lying about seeing the prints in the first place, and the prosecution was tainted. There were hunters on the jury and they agreed about the footprint thing.

Anyway, he was found NOT GUILTY and we walked out. But, there was a flash lightning storm as we were leaving the court and we had to wait for the rain to stop before we could leave. All the jurors were on the stairs, right behind waiting for the rain to stop. So it was Tony, the DA and me on the stairs, with the jurors right behind us. I turn around and there is the foreperson, a lady..the hunter lady. She points her finger straight into the Tony’s face, shaking her finger at him and says “We hope you learned your lesson young man.” And I say “Did you hear that young man? They think you might be guilty.”

Willie Keeler

“...I got fire in my eye And tobacco in my jaw!

Hughie, hold my halo.

I'm sick of being a saint:

Got to teach youngsters To hit 'em where they ain't.”

-Ogden Nash

Boss,

A toast! To the lovers!

Strumming their merry melodies!

God forgive him! God forgive her!

Moral moorings found with mere companionship.

don’t forget: "the soul is flesh as well, perhaps more volatile, more diaphanous, perhaps freer, but flesh all the same."

Good for you boss, you found a woman who could tell you were on the verge of bursting

I got to go boss, the time is still thin.

I heave and I ho

Always,

yours

Dear Callus

Now people don't worry,

please explain her,

not that Callus ever be earned

truly secret singer

Done hum with a smile on

Never with the lights on,

Soaked Nylon

Sheets

Sweet child

Freaks

Steep summit

Weak Stomach Plummet,

A subtle saw nothing

Been splintered with pride

Pain keeps eating my time

Keeps keeping her down

Dear Callus

Would you mind if I hang around

Dear Malice

I hate it when you drown out loud

Dear Callus

a

dorable

adorable

I adore

j’adore

I love you

Boss,

It has been madness.

You will either hate it or love it- like most things, you skip along free.

Talk about satisfaction; you can literally count the progress.

Well, I speak of us.

I speak a fleeting satisfaction that leaves them pent up and psychotic into the night. Mostly a good thing.

It makes them know that stasis is not an option.

Hearts would explode. Talk soon.

Always,

yours

“That was the only decision there was once upon a time: what to do with the night.”

-Harry Crews

Slaughter

I seen sea sawed off sing.

The laughter is not real.

My teeth feed still amidst your mist forest,

And measured along your long desert

Saw nothing of worth of what I can feel.

Stainless rags they said.

I'm the jest this crown must be my name

And still the preacher was crying

Man I seen it all, I mean it

Ask any blade that's an ox-blade.

A subtle aw nothing

clink Clink her teeth on her shovel

Hand clean me to reap the feedback

See

The problem...

It’s stomach

Mapping

“One’s memory is not this perfect photographic film that holds an image without changing it. [It requires] accepting what appears as fact as provisional, as temporary, as a moment within the larger ambit of transformation…The job of the artist is to fight against entropy – to keep on taking these fragments and say, ‘What can they become?’ To take the fragments and construct something provisionally new. And that’s the link from memory, to fragments, to the activity of making.”

-William Kentridge

And now, with your permission, a bit of verse from Angelus Silesius:

"All nature rushes to man, so that man may lead it to the knowledge of God"

Damn, Alexander! You cut that knot with the natural confidence of an ox-bladed butcher!

Le petit mort. The little death.

When you die, you’re born again.

Recycled labor

Know you’re nature

Know your nature

Dear Boss,

What matters most is my gradual loss of character

Not yet. Well fed.

Now I have to make moves or I will unravel. The sense of timing is alarming.

Can you blame me, boss? You watch out.

That’s why God sent wild beasts to earth: to finish off people like me, so we don’t fall too low.

Always,

yours