I Trusted You


Sorry for the wonkiness of the podcast last night. I had such a hard time with this microcast.

It seems to have been doomed from the start. It took days to record that one second of audio. No, really. Well, and to mix it. No, again, really. It was a whole thing.

I guess I should start with philosophy and aesthetic…err, my pet-peeves, that is. My biggest pet-peeve is when people, especially podcasters, over talk things. It’s rampant. Continue reading I Trusted You

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It’s a Hoot

Introduction

My twenty-fifth podcast is a poem.
(It's much less repetitive than the last one.)


Main Content

Hello
Good evening
and welcome
I’m Franklyn Monk
I hold deep-seated and derisive political ideologies
It’s true!
I’m an ally
But I see no sense in preaching to the choir
I see no sense in preaching to the choir
So I’m gonna talk on somethin’
Mundane
Or prosaic
Like sunsets
The moon
An owl

Oh, the Moon isn’t her real name
Her real name to too beautiful
Too beautiful too beautiful
Her real name would burn your ears
Or my tongue
Turn you into a zombie
Albeit a good one
That doesn’t eat people
So it continually eats itself
Sunrise to sunset
Sunset to sunset
There’s an owl there
Somewhere

Oh, I have a first conscience memory of an owl
But it’s too painful to revisit
So it’s left as an exercise
For the audience
What is the poet’s owl?


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Notes

Yes, the opening line is an homage to LKJ

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In the Evening


Here’s a spooky little number I composed over Halloween.


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FreqOut


I made this one completely from scratch in Audacity. I generated the tones, spliced them together, and also made Shepard tones from scratch.


I haven’t been making these in a while. Here’s one I created…I don’t know when, a while back. Originally known as Frequency Out because it was a mixed down backtrack of a larger project that I never got around to completing. FreqOut made me snigger, so that’s what I went with.

Feel free to use it in your project if it fits, or just listen to it in the background while you paint, or meditate or write, or whatever. It should stay out of your way enough to concentrate, while challenging you enough that you don’t fall asleep.


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Ceiling Fan


The percussive thud isn’t from the fan, it’s the heartbeat of my soon to be born niece or nephew.

The download link above is for the audio (m4a) which I sent out for my podcast (I couldn’t justify hitting my subscribers with a large video podcast). The original audio and video | the new video, as part of my Video Compilation.


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Communion

Introduction

Dronecast Episode 19

Main Content

“Stop! You must curtail your bizarre behavior,”
says the man with the stick,
“You really must,” he says
adjusting his hat.

But, he’s not talking to me,
he’s talking to the creature we become—
in the stretch back to the first realm.

“Adjust behavior and commiserate elsewhere,”
says the fat man
“You really must,” he says
poking the creature’s chest.

The creature, call us Communion,
howls indignant turns back to the wall—
string dangling from our slippery hands.

“Non-compliance is unacceptable,”
shouts the rigid man,
“Unacceptable and you must stop,” he shouts
and we pay em no mind

We are disconnected from that world,
there is only blood here and glue and string—
this creation nothing else.

Poem | Podcast


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The Best Of

Here are some of my favorite Dronecast tracks in one convenient playlist. Almost two hours worth.

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“A Throne!”


“You, you,” he points at you,
“You can’t be in my audience,”
And collapses.

There are no stagehands here
To shuffle away his bones,
“It’s a one man show!”

He now understands his mistake,
But he’s proud of shrinking
The universe down to a man.
Who does that?
“The Artist!” he’ll inevitably cry
And laugh because it’s ludicrous.

“I took tickets too.”
And he cleaned the aisles
And he built you a throne
With cheesecloth and cardboard,
“And my soul!” Yes, yes, of course.

And there now you are
In the throne he constructed
And he’s not ready to be seen or heard
“Or exist!” No, no, of course.


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Was “Front row, center”

Podcast added Friday, May 16, 2014
and updated a day later.

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