Sunday, March 29, 2009

A Rose Colored Ghost

La Lumiere Jaune

Chapter One -



"That's what I do is candles," she spoke loudly and clearly beneath her whitening, widening eyes, beneath her whitening, thinning hair. He gazed at her, nonplussed, barely paying attention in that way that calls attention to itself. He leaned back, his weight on one foot behind the counter, quickly sweeping the damp espresso grinds from the counter top into the aluminum knock box.

"We've got the bigger ones and - you know - the smalls and the mediums, and the Buddhists and the ones they call Juniper Joan in France. They're the ones that are yellow." She was gesturing with her hands, as if she could tease some kind of sign out of the thin air that would mean "yellow". He made another espresso, cranking the porta' to the right, stabbing the button on the left.

"Well I need candles." He said it in a tone that subtly - but unmistakeably - revealed itself to mean "You should give me some free candles."

"I can bring in the flyer. I'll bring you one." She walked out the door, into the bleak Sunday with an hysterical smile on her face, as if she'd just murdered the Easter Bunny.

"Doppio Espresso!" he called out, spinning the saucer onto the counter so that the coffee in the white demitasse cup swirled - without spilling - forming the image of Bodhi Dharma in the soft, caramel-colored crema.


Chapter Two - In the Garden



That was the morning that he had the idea for the pink.

He had painted layers of gesso on the canvas before he added the light plaster, like a layer of dust on the moon. Between each step he'd used the sandpaper, here and there, one spot rough, one spot smooth, drawing a map of the human capacity for love.

This morning he mixed the pink just as he had in his dream, the the plum color he'd already used and the white and the cadmium, and the thinner. Thinner than thin. A rose-colored ghost.

He used a roller, riding just over the edge of the tape covering nearly two thirds of the horizontal rectangle on the right side.

She came in from the street from the car from the store where she'd run to get salami, whiskey, tampons and new batteries for the camera.

"It's started," she said as if gazing at a horizon after a quick steep climb.

"Gimme." He took the sack from her arms and walked into the house, the screen door banging behind him. She looked back at the painting and smiled, her shoulders rising a bit, her beaming face bending slightly down and to the right as if she was crushing her nose against a baby.

Chapter 3 - I Want Everything

They found the Saint in the middle of the road. By then he'd gone completely blind from the corrosion of the visions and his hands had become misshapen crescents - like a crabs claws; shining, hard, and smoothed by prayer.

The End



Espresso Machine Parts Glossary & Nomenclature

(from http://www.espressoparts-usa.com/category/espressotutorials.01_espresso_glossary/)

Espresso: Nomenclature

The Oxford English dictionary is the leading authority on the etymology of the English language, and provides a clear source for English. Espresso is a purely Italian word, as the O.E.D. states:
Espresso,
[It. caff� espresso, lit. '�pressed-out coffee']

However, for a more concise understanding of where the term 'espresso' comes from, one must delve a little deeper and explore the word 'Coffee'�. Again from the O.E.D.:
Coffee,

[ad. Arab. qahwah, in Turkish pronounced kahveh, the name of the infusion or beverage; said by Arab lexicographers to have originally meant 'wine' or some kind of wine, and to be a derivative of a vb.-root qahiya 'to have no appetite'. Some have conjectured that it is a foreign, perh. African, word disguised, and have thought it connected with the name of Kaffa in the south Abyssinian highlands, where the plant appears to be native. But of this there is no evidence, and the name qahwah is not given to the berry or plant, which is called bunn, the native name in Shoa being b{umac}n.

The European langs. generally appear to have got the name from Turkish kahveh, about 1600, perh. through It. caffe cf. F., Sp., Pg. caf�, Ger. kaffee, Da., Sw. kaffe. The Eng. coffee, Du. koffie, earlier Ger. coffee, koffee, Russ. kophe, kophe{ibreve}, have o, app. representing earlier au from ahw or ahv.]

Now a clearer idea of the meaning of 'espresso' comes to the surface. We have seen that it literally means "pressed-out coffee"�. This is partly due to the process of extracting coffee from the beans in an ingenious process developed in 1901 by Luigi Bezzera. Some stories report that he wanted to be able to brew coffee faster so that his employees wouldn'�t take lengthy coffee breaks, so he came up with the idea of using steam pressure to quickly force water through coffee held in small removable baskets. It probably did not take him long to figure out that loose grounds held in this basket were not producing a very good cup, so, after re-calculating the volume of grounds and temperature of water, he pressed it and produced the first espresso.

Now on to the espresso machine parts.

Espresso Machine Parts Glossary
Portafiltro (Portafilter)

This words definition is simply based on the word split in two: porta (portable) filtro (filter). It could be said that it is the first best tool of the barista when it comes to interacting with coffee. Without it, there is no espresso. But without its best friend and next best tool, the tamper, or the thing that one presses or �tamps� the ground coffee with in the portafilter, your grounds are useless. There are literally hundreds of designs of tampers, but the best would certainly be a tamper that fits snuggly into the portafilter.
Portafilter Body

The main component of the portafilter is the 'body' of the assembly. The body holds the 'filter'�, or 'basket'�. The remaining components are the tension 'spring' which keeps the basket in place, the 'spout' which directs the flow of the espresso and the 'handle'� itself. In most cases the body of the Portafilter is specific to each manufacture, but in some cases, different manufactures have borrowed the designs from other manufactures, and they may be interchangeable from model to model.
Portafilter Spring

The springs hold the baskets in place. It is held in the portafilter by clipping in to a groove that is milled into the inner surface of the portafilter body. Some are round in profile and circumference, but most are bent into a hexagonal shape with one open end.
Portafilter Basket

The same is true with the baskets, not only in size, but also in volume. Most machines use a standardized portafilter basket with the volume capacity of 14 grams for the 'double-shot', but 12 gram versions are available for some machines. For the 'single-shot', most people are comfortable with the standard 7 gram basket, not even knowing that a 6 gram basket is available as well. Some machines portafilter bodies are able to accept an even larger size: a 'triple' or 21 gram basket. These variances are based exclusively on personal preference, and in the end will not affect the quality of a drink: in the end, it is the barista that chooses and grinds the coffee and then pulls the shot, not the basket.
Portafilter Spout(s)

The spout attached to the bottom of the body of a portafilter offers a barista yet more choices.

In most cases the portafilter spout is threaded onto the bottom of the portafilter. Most manufactures (except Gaggia, which employs a �"�) use a 3/8"� threaded fitting. The double shot versions are available tall, short, with a cover or without, in an adjustable or the standard non-adjustable style. The single shot comes with a straight, curved, short or tall choice. A rare and essentially never used triple� spout can also be used.

For the La Cimbali machines, a screw on style is used. Two screws hold a double or single spout onto the body. The height of your drain pan in relation to your cup may be a factor in choosing a style of spout. Most baristas will agree that being able to physically see a shot being poured thus being able to closely watch the process for quality is very important. Placing a large 16oz. or 20 oz. cup directly under the portafilter, pressing a button and walking away is frowned upon by any barista with distinguished taste and respect for the art.

In some cases, a machine will simply refuse to pour an even double shot from each end of the spout no matter how much �'tweaking'� of tamping or positioning a barista may try. This is what the adjustable spouts are for. The adjustable spout re-directs the espresso from one side to another with the turn of a screw. As with the baskets, one portafilter spout is not necessarily better than another, but you may find that your functionality and efficiency may be improved by your choice of spout.
Gruppo (Group Head)

The group head (brew head) is the large protrusion coming off of the front of an espresso machine which the portafilter is engaged to when brewing. Most espresso machines are categorized by the number of groups that are on the machine, i.e., one (single), two, three or four group. The group head can sometimes be an enigma to owners, users and customers alike. There are various different styles of group heads as with all other components of espresso machines.


The oldest system is the lever operated espresso machine. It uses a lever and piston assembly to force water through the grounds with a steady yet adjustable flow; the barista has the ability to increase and decrease the water dispensing pressure as he/she pulls a shot. This is where the term "�pull a shot" comes from. There are also a wide variety of hydraulic heads that are, today, rarely produced, and difficult to find parts for. These work in a similar way as the lever groups allowing the barista to control the flow rate, but use a combination of smaller vertical pistons that open and close with a small lever or arm. The most common form of group head today is the solenoid operated group. It employs and electronic coil that energizes a valve to open and close its orifice and allow water through - or keep it contained -� and are operated with either an analog rocker switch or digital electronic circuit commonly referred to as a touchpad.

Solenoid group machines are then divided into three other designations: super-automatic, automatic and semi-automatic.

Super-automatic Espresso Machines

Super-automatic machines are the newest style of espresso machine on the market. These machines grind the coffee, tamp, extract and dispose of the grounds, while frothing milk and pouring the entire drink - whatever drink one selects from its digital touch pad - all in one step.

Espresso aficionados are of the opinion that these take the heart out of brewing coffee, but they are very useful and convenient for extremely high volume, high traffic (both with customers as well as employees; little training is required) locations.

The down side is that they can be very labor intensive for technicians, if one is able to find a certified or trained technician at all, leading to costly service bills.
Automatic Espresso Machines

Automatic espresso machines are probably the most common machine on the market. The come with programmable digital touchpad dosing circuits. The operator enters two single (one short and one long) and two double shots timed shot pours into the computer in the machine. The computer then sends a signal to both the pump motor and flow meter (a small electronic wheel also called an impeller) to dispense water though the group.


Rubinetti Vapore/Acqua (Steam/water Valves)

Steam and hot water valves are no less important than the group heads; they are used just as often if not more! Most two, three and four group commercial machines only come with two steam and one hot water wand. The steam wands on most traditional commercial machines are placed at either end of the machine, and move in any direction. Some older equipment steam wands will only move forward and back, but check with a dealer of the equipment -� there may be a retro-fit kit if this design doesn'�t work for you.

In recent years, some manufactures have started producing equipment that comes out of the box with what is known as an 'auto-frother'. In days past these were an optional item. These are attachments placed on a traditional steam wand, or replacing the steam wand altogether. They allow the operator to quickly froth milk without learning or implementing the skills practiced by traditional baristi for frothing milk. Some are very technically advanced, going as far as digitally displaying the temperature of the milk, but with all of them - as with traditional wands, but to a far greater degree -� they must be cleaned daily, which can be labor intensive due to the number of components they are assembled with.

Hot water wands are kept very simple. They are normally an aerator threaded into a tube which draws hot water out of the boiler. In most cases, the machine must be hot for the siphoning effect of the valve to be operational.

Both steam and hot water valves may be operated by a knob that one turns, a lever one activates, or a button, digital or analog, that one presses. Valves that are opened via a knob are easily repairable, and are similar to the valves we see in sink and tub faucets. Lever activated valves are just as simply constructed, but can take a little finessing to repair.

Electrically opening valves all use a solenoid to open and close the valve, but digitally operated valves can be problematic. With a digital steam or water valve, a signal must first go through the circuit board behind the button before sending the signal to the solenoid to open or close. This can be a problem to diagnose: is it the circuit that has failed, or the solenoid?
Caldaia (Boiler)

Boilers in espresso machines vary in construction material, size and assembly. Most are brass. Some are constructed out of stainless steel. The benefit of a stainless steel boiler is the fact that it will never rust, but by the time a brass boiler rusts out of a machine, it has probably been long enough for the machine to have already paid for itself in sales it has produced. All boilers are subject to, and victims of, lime and mineral scale build-up.

The size of a boiler can be important. With a large capacity boiler and a small wattage heating element, the machine will take longer to heat up and struggle to maintain its optimum temperature in a high volume output environment. The variables of wattage, voltage and boiler capacity are infinite and can be very confusing, but a comfortable high ratio would be about 300 watts per listed boiler liter capacity for a 220 volt machine.

The most prevalent boilers on the market use a heat exchanger to supply water to the group head(s). Heat exchangers are essentially boilers inside of a boiler. The ambient heat of the water and steam inside the main boiler heats up the cool water coming into the heat exchanger. What this means is that the temperature of the water is directly dependent on, and related to, the amount of steam pressure in the boiler. If one increases the steam pressure, they are also increasing the temperature of the water being dispensed out of the group. In two, three and four group machines, this effect takes place across the board, thus the adjustability of steam pressure and water temperature is limited.

Some machines come manufactured with two separate boilers; one for steam and one for brewing. The benefit of this is the ability to adjust either boiler to your specific needs or desires. Each boiler has a different circuit controlling its heating element, and can be dialed in for the desired temperature of brewing and steaming.

Boilers are filled with fresh water in two ways: with a manual-fill valve, and with an auto-fill valve. These two valves work in tandem. The main power switch for machines generally turns on the auto-fill circuit, allowing water to by-pass the manual fill valve through the auto-fill solenoid and fill the boiler with water. Once the water reaches a probe (the auto-fill probe) that is threaded into the top of the boiler, this grounds the circuit out, telling the solenoid to close and the pump motor to turn off. The manual-fill valve is usually only used in emergencies when one or more of the auto-fill components has failed. These valves can also be electronically opened, but most use a standard push stem valve. Additionally, the manual-fill valve differs from the auto in that it doesn'�t use the pump motor to allow water in, only the static pressure of the water supply.

Keeping a close eye on the water level is very important. An empty boiler will quickly burn out the heating element.
Pompa (Pump)

The pump is used to push water through the group head, as well as fill the boiler. Most commercial machines use a large pump called a rotary vane pump. They are commonly made of brass and come with water in and water out fittings, a mounting flange, an adjustment screw and a drive shaft. The most common version has a clamp style mounting flange and a flat drive shaft. Other variations are a bolt on flange, using two or three bolts, a retrofitted three prong flange adaptor and or a round drive shaft. These pumps should all have an adjustment screw located on the side of the pump that one uses to increase or decrease the dispensing water coming out of the group head. While dispensing water, one turns the screw clockwise to increase or counter-clockwise to decrease the pressure. All rotary vane pumps are required to be hooked up to a pressurized water supply. These pumps can only run without water for about 75 revolutions before the graphite bearings wear out and the pump is ruined.

Some smaller compact models (and almost all home machines) come with a different style pump, the vibratory pump. These are smaller, less expensive and not adjustable. Some, such as the Fluid-o-tech model, are connected to the electrical wiring via a wiring boot that snaps on and is held in place with a screw. Others, such as the Ulka model, come with two spade type terminals, that may or may not be wired in with a high limit pump shut-off diode. They do not need to be installed to pressurized water, and are not attached to a pump motor, discussed next.
Motopompa (Pump Motor)

The motors turn the pump. In most new machines, the motor and pump are placed inside the machine, but in a large majority of older machines, the pump is mounted outside. Some manufactures still prefer to keep the look of their equipment the same, and so have not modified their body assembly to be able to fit a pump inside. This is inconsequential as the pumps and motors are very durable.

As with pumps, there are different models of motors available as well. The most common is the clamp flange, flat drive shaft model. Others may have a round or splined drive shaft and holes in the flange for bolts. They are available in different sizes as well, but the important thing when replacing a motor is to get the exact wattage and voltage, as well as the same microfarad rating on its start capacitor.

That pretty much covers all of the major working systems of an espresso machine. As with any piece of machinery, all makes and models, even if they have the same tag, may not be exactly the same. So be observant, vigilant and patient when working on the equipment.



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Wednesday, March 25, 2009

A Burning Thing

Love in the Free World

Chapter One - The Free and the Brave

He sat on the porch, twirling a wooden match between his fingers like a tiny baton. The cars passed by on The Boulevard with a sweet hiss in the just-cool night time air. He could hear the television in the downstairs apartment. A trumpet played a fanfare and a number of people clapped and cheered. It was either a game show or a war movie.

Chapter Two - A Woman's Prerogative

Like the night before - and the night before that - she was already in her pajamas by 9:30, the slight burn beneath the blinking lids of her eyes like a sharp little voice admonishing her to get to bed even a few minutes earlier tonight. She had to be up by 5 to catch the bus by 6 to make it to her stop by 6:30 to cross the street at Mag and West by 6:45 to get to the University by 7; at which point she would stop into the Student Union and order a small orange juice to drink with the perpetual cereal bars she pulled from her purse like magician's rabbits. She'd read the latest movie review in the paper and see if she could complete the crossword before heading to teach her class at 8. She had finished the whole puzzle just yesterday.

Chapter Three - Me and the Blues

The Kid got up late. He had a way of getting off his schedule. This was mostly due to the fact that there was no schedule to keep. Not really. Ever since the surgery, he had been at home - mostly in his room - mostly moving his head like a squirrel peaking out of a hole - fast jerky glances from side to side - as if "looking at things faster" would somehow compensate for the fact that his eyes really didn't work anymore. He glanced quickly to his left as he accidentally knocked his water over into his pill bottles. The entire TV tray crashed, the little blue capsules swelling and softening in the clear wet between the shards.

Chapter Four - Angels with Dirty Faces

As usual, the music was too loud. She was yelling something in his ear but he couldn't hear her. He yelled back, but she couldn't understand. He stepped away from her and took her by the shoulders, squaring her to himself and looking directly at her face.

"What?" He mouthed it exaggeratedly hoping she could read his lips. She smiled, closed her eyes and licked her lips as she inhaled - as if she was about to jump from a high dive. She exhaled and smiled and grabbed his elbows with her small hands, gently moving them in rhythm with her mouthings.

"I adore you."

Chapter 5 - Follow Apollo

The next day the sun rose and the sun set, and everyone was quite sure it would continue for some time.

The End




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Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Lake Not Still

Down by the Water



Chapter 1 - The Stone Skipper

The surface of the lake was smooth, but not still. The entire mirror of its green expanse slowly undulated above fast moving contractions and expansions of water that seemed to have been displaced by something the size of a 16 year old girl.

Chapter 2 - A Gun and a Girl

"Never point the gun toward yourself or anyone else"

"Duh..."

Her father laughed, his broad red nose - like a wedge of cheese - bouncing above the spreading, rock-candy smile. He coughed a few times - bringing his fist to his lips - then he exhaled like a punctured tire, dropped his hand to chamois on the picnic table, picked it up, and continued to slowly rub the barrel of the rifle. He wasn't being particularly thorough. In fact, he was hardly paying attention at all.

Chapter 3 - The Tree Falls

The crow called out as it lit down within the tree-shaded clearing; the dark, damp earth cool and moist beneath a winter's worth of wind blown needles, leaves, bark, broken twigs, and a small silver ring on the slender white finger of a pale hand at the end of a pair of bones where another black bird pulled something passed it's snapping beak and into his gullet.

Chapter 4 - The Ring of Mary Bell

Mary Bell stared at the sky with a gaze that had forgotten time. Time - also - had forgotten Mary Bell.

The End




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Joe Nolan

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Monday, March 23, 2009

Romeo Has A Raygun

Bonjour, mes amis



Happy Monday!



Here's to hopin' you dreamed a little dream in the last 48.

Had a quiet weekend myself. Watched the Spartans win a few basketball games. Watched my friend's teams lose a few. I've enjoyed that a little bit too much ;)


The Silent Sounding Sea

Chapter One - The Young Boy

The Young Boy stood on the grey cliff overlooking the blue water. The breeze blew in from the west, warm and full of sun. In the distance he could hear the Monday morning sounds of the market opening. He could smell roasted meat and rich country dirt as he contemplated the deep dark indigo that stretched to the edge of the sky.

Chapter Two - The Physics of the Free Kick

All the boys yelled at once, shirtless but dry in the mid-afternoon sun despite the frantic pace of the game. The ball passed quickly from foot to foot, knee to chest, head to ground, only to pop loose suddenly like prisoner on the run, skittering across the dry dust toward the women where they cooked and smoked their pipes, before finally being caught by one of the young boys who extended his foot passed the ball - mid-run - and brought his heel down like an ax, sending the sphere leaping backwards toward another dark, wavy head. The women looking on disapprovingly as if to say "Boys and men are only full of games."

Chapter Three - Romeo Has a Raygun

Three small tables constituted a makeshift cafe in the market. The American frowned beneath his stringy mustache like he had taken a bite of bad fruit. Keeping to himself, he read from a thin volume of Shakespeare. Having spent a lot of time alone, he had developed the habit of talking to himself. Around others, he usually whispered, but absorbed in his reading, surrounded by the chaos of the market, he had forgotten himself and mumbled aloud -

The world's my oyster
Which I with sword will open.


On the small table next to his coffee, a British voice spoke English over a satellite radio -

Surging demand for feed, food, and fuel have recently led to drastic price increases, which are not likely to fall in the foreseeable future, due to low stocks and slow-growing supplies of agricultural outputs. Climate change will also have a negative impact on food production, compounding the challenge of meeting global food demand, and potentially exacerbating hunger and malnutrition among the world's poorest people. Economic growth has helped to reduce hunger, particularly when it is equitable. Unfortunately, growth is never positioned to reach the poorest people.


Chapter Four - The Winds On High

He ran as fast as he could. The young boy lifted one brown, bare foot onto the rock while the other swung forward into the emptiness. Rising into the air, the distant market disappeared from the edge of his sight, replaced only by billowing blue sky. At this highest point, the rest of his vision filled with the endless ocean. Imagining himself immersed in that warm water, he'd hold his breath - floating. Weightless. Forever.

The End



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Joe Nolan

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Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Grand Grey Lynx

Bon jour,

Comment?

Recently asked what my favorite period of visual art was, I had to stop short and address the subject through a broader, more general appeal.

For me the best stuff happened in America between the end of WWII and the middle of the 1960's...give or take half a decade. But not only in visual art. This is the GREAT TIME for journalism, art, film, music, dance, poetry/lit - everything! Social Justice...Spiritual Consciousness...True Human Liberty...

This is not to say the BEST in the history of the world. Who knows? Who cares? This is my favorite period and the one that is most influential where my own projects are concerned.



I also started watching Jean Luc Godard's Histoire(s) du Cinema.

It is a poem.


The Old Man

Chapter One - The Old Man

The old man stared at the spinning fan in the window. He peered through the blink-a-black light, his eyelashes fluttering before his agitated vision.

He heard a hornet humming past his left ear. Then another. Then another hornet, closer and faster, like the next one, and the one immediately following it.

The cars passsed by like armored boars, snorting and growling, masticating and belching all black roads between here and there; shitting carbon colored clouds of bleak, black, bad history and torment.

The Old Man sat upright on the sidewalk near the intersection of Hart and Altman. He'd fallen asleep again.


Chapter 2 - Wake Up Little Snoozy

Tea comes from China. Whether it does or doesn't is of no importance to us dear reader, but it was important to the Old Man as he dunked a small, white, wet bag on a string into and out of the still, steaming water.

Tea comes from China. He thought the thought for a long time. He didn't hold the statement in his head like a scribble on a chalkboard. It breathed. It was draped in musculature and wet with function and consciousness.

Tea Comes from China.


Chapter 3 The Devil Rides West

The television was turned up loud, but he didn't really notice loud noises anymore. As his senses receded he felt safer in the world. As his hearing dulled to a soft, still, hushing wave, he became more like an animal, more aware of his faculties, having begun to perceive the limits of their definitions. He began to interpret the input from the environment around him in terms of fight-or-flight - like a monkey or perhaps a grand, grey lynx. Sounds were either vitally important or of no consequence.

Their was little to flee from in the small apartment on Altman. But there was fight in the Old Man.


Chapter 4 The Conquering Hero

The Old Man stood up and turned slowly, committing to an about-face like a reluctant mule. He raised one hand above his eyes to shield them from the bright, burning light. He began the long walk home.

The End












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Joe Nolan

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Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Green!

What up one and all...??..

Happy St. Patrick's Day! I remember writing my St. P's post last year and I am having a hard time believing that we have come back around to this verdant fest again already.

The world...she does keep-a-turning...

On that note, it's time to celebrate!

Remain present as I dish out your presents...

Your St. Paddy's date..



Your appetizers...



Your dinner...



Your second date...



Here is your party...



Here is your drinking buddy...



Here is his drinking buddy...



Here is your drink...



Here is your drink's drink...



Here is your drink's date...



Here is your new best friend...



Here is baby Jesus...



Enjoy yourself!

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Listen to "Mission" and the rest of my new CD - Blue Turns Black!


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Love,
Joe Nolan

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Monday, March 16, 2009

The King of May

Happy Monday!

How about another old-school poem to set the ol' steps in the right direction...




The Straits of Magellan (by Joe Nolan)

strange and true and green and huge and

waiting

beneath seven miles

of ocean.

reflecting blades of daybreak

grass, breaking toward the break

of day and breaking

into the space

of the sky

at the far horizon.

rising

like an art

and like a knife.

a blue-green hue,

that line where the sky meets the sea.

and the rowers row to oblivion,

straining rum-soaked

oars

and sun-stroked

minds,

hallucinating Jésus walking on water

in the shape of a slaughtered

lamb, bleeding

good luck

coins,

plopping

down

to the bottom of the blue.

falling, failing, dove-less olives

returning to Atlantis.

deep, deep down where the dead men go,

on their way

to the center

of the earth.



As a special bonus, here is another poem by Allen Ginsberg. The King of May was inspired by Ginsberg's deportation from Cuba to Prague. Welcomed as a hero in Czechoslovakia, Ginsberg was crowned King of May during the May Day parade. Having seen enough, the Czechs sent Ginsy back to London.



This is a great Spring poem.




Check out my videos, the archives of The Sleepless Film Festival, and more at my new You Tube channel: Joe Nolan's Imagicon

Listen to "Mission" and the rest of my new CD - Blue Turns Black!


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Love,
Joe Nolan

Use this player to listen to my new CD. Purchase a song or two at your favorite digital outlet and help us stay awake here at Insomnia!

Check out my profile at Reverb Nation to see my updated press and bio.

Listen to my earlier releases, and enjoy free downloads here!

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Sunday, March 15, 2009

May Day (In hope of Spring)

Gracias, muchachos.

Another vintage verse vrooms from the vault.




May Day (by Joe Nolan)

The White Hand
marks the countenance
of the mind soldier.
Digital rifle shoulders grim determination.
Calls of  EVACUATION!
mark the midnight’s jaundiced
malaise.
Propagandography in the coding of the symbol.
The bug chaser
licks a leg razor
and swallows his sallow tail
like a sick Pisces.
doomed/damned/dimmed
under bomb raid
light-
and the copkillers huddle in
some brave shadow where
everyboy is a King.
We deny The Law its rule and its gallows.
We kill our own martyrs and mark the night
like satyrs
at the limits of our blue desiring.
There are no hirelings among us comrade.
No merchants among pirates.
No cynics among lovers.
No cataract occludes our Solar
Vision of a Vice
that is risen -
Red Angel -
at an angle to the midnight,
that presupposes its corrosive intent.
Hey Mooneyed Ghetto Child
bleeds low-rent television static
from a wound in his side.
No pride among the desperate.
The vestments of poverty and shame learn
a new name from an old one.
Burn
a new flame from an old sun
that no longer dawns
on the chrome junkyard heart of
fallen-sweet autumn apples drinking
seventh story water
in this A.M. (Year of the Ram).
I quest a grail-full
of Love of Chaos.
My Beauty’s breast ridden
with Anarchy ribbons
in the wine-soaked twilight of May Day.
A rose blooms in my palm and
bleeds a bullet
between my teeth.


Check out my videos, the archives of The Sleepless Film Festival, and more at my new You Tube channel: Joe Nolan's Imagicon

Listen to "Mission" and the rest of my new CD - Blue Turns Black!


Joe%20NolanQuantcast
Love,
Joe Nolan

Use this player to listen to my new CD. Purchase a song or two at your favorite digital outlet and help us stay awake here at Insomnia!

Check out my profile at Reverb Nation to see my updated press and bio.

Listen to my earlier releases, and enjoy free downloads here!

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Friday, March 13, 2009

From a Makeshift Bed

Bon soir mes amis.

This is a poem I was reminded of today. Check out more
poems here.




From a Makeshift Bed (by Joe Nolan)


The Ghost haunts my Autumn mind
on the morning after
All Hallows’ Eve.
New-born thoughts
marked
with the symbols of their own demise.
A graveyard in the groin.
A murder on the lips.
This morning, this dawn, upon waking,
I muttered a muddled
prayer
and rose from a makeshift bed
in a strange room.
I cast my fortunes
with the Dark Horse Contender.
I cast my nets in black
waters
and pull my treasure
from the pleasure
that throbs beneath
love-sore skin.
And The Eyes shine through
the 11 hundred light
like a shadow on fire.
I desire my love to come to me
feet-first.
I desire her to fall from the sky.
I will call her manna
and I will speak her name
with a great gnashing
of teeth.
I will name her Hannah
and I will meet her over
waffles and syrup
at a pick-up hitch-up
East of Eden,
West of Spokane,
where the name of the night
 is blown
on Pacific winds,
through high blue
trees, that bend
with the ease of death,
taking its toll for a last breath
(a pound of flesh
when a pound of faith is lacking).
And the razing wraith of sunset
overcomes the sky
with the inevitability
of its own
falling blade.
“If we’d stayed here, things would’ve been different.”
“If we’d stayed, we’d’ve reaped The Avalanche.”
And The Hands
shape the shape
of the awkward
afternoon
(a blunt object to bludgeon
the hour by)
as the hours pass by this witness to
their mean meander.
And on the desert floor,
a salamander
swallows a mantis.
And a shark sinks
to the bottom
of some merciless
Atlantis.
And here I still an hour,
for a moment
to devour my love,
coming up through the ice.



Please take the time to check out my vids, the archives of The Sleepless Film Festival, and more at my new You Tube channel:

Joe Nolan's Imagicon

Listen to "Mission" and the rest of my new CD - Blue Turns Black!


Joe%20NolanQuantcast
Love,
Joe Nolan

Use this player to listen to my new CD. Consider purchasing a song or two at your favorite digital outlet and help us stay awake here at Insomnia!

Check out my profile at Reverb Nation to see my updated press and bio.

Listen to my earlier releases, and enjoy free downloads here!

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Saturday, March 07, 2009

The Old Double Zero

Hello lovelies,

Here is a brand new song. Seriously. Wrote the last line 4 mins ago...


The Old Double Zero (Lyrics by Joe Nolan)

The Old Double Zero is a shady little bar
A waitress with a smile and a crying steel guitar
Misery loves company, but she don't look for long
She made a brand new friend on the day I wrote this song

I'm the hero of The Old Double Zero
The place where the band only knows one song to play
I'm the Nero of the place where the tears go
The Emperor of Empty, baby, since you gone away

Broken glass in the window, broken glass behind the bar
Bet your ass you can go, but you won't get very far
Yesterday's got long arms. Yesterday's got legs
Yesterday goes stealing where tomorrow stoops to beg

I'm the hero of The Old Double Zero
The place where the band only knows one song to play
I'm the Nero of the place where the tears go
The Emperor of Empty, baby, since you gone away

Nothin' sadder than the sunshine come a-creepin' 'neath the shade
You find you got it bad when you thought you had it made
Nothin' lonely as your shadow as it rises from the night
Searchin' for salvation, but blinded by the light

I'm the hero of The Old Double Zero
The place where the band only knows one song to play
I'm the Nero of the place where the tears go
The Emperor of Empty, baby, since you gone away



Please take the time to check out my other vids, the archives of The Sleepless Film Festival, and more at my new You Tube channel:

Joe Nolan's Imagicon

Listen to "Mission" and the rest of my new CD - Blue Turns Black!


Joe%20NolanQuantcast
Love,
Joe Nolan

Use this player to listen to my new CD. Consider purchasing a song or two at your favorite digital outlet and help us stay awake here at Insomnia!

Check out my profile at Reverb Nation to see my updated press and bio.

Listen to my earlier releases, and enjoy free downloads here!

Where Does True Freedom Lie - Consequence and Necessity

Ahoymatey!

Welcome aboard the good
ship gollywog!

Morning in the Old South. You can smell the smell of
people smelling
for the smell of the the idea of magnolias in bloom.

Not yet children. One should not be impatient with
the Sun.

PUCK
42 Thou speak'st aright;
43 I am that merry wanderer of the night.
44 I jest to Oberon and make him smile
45 When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
46 Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
47 And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
48 In very likeness of a roasted crab,
49 And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
50 And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
51 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
52 Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
53 Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
54 And "tailor" cries, and falls into a cough;
55 And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
56 And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear
57 A merrier hour was never wasted there.
58 But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon.

Fairy
59 And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!

Enter the King of Fairies [OBERON]
at one door with his TRAIN, and the
Queen [TITANIA] at another with hers.

OBERON
60 Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.


- A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare


The Flaying of Marsyas, Titian

This painting has a soundtrack...




On black evenings the crows fly at half mast toward the
dreaded dawn. The daytime isn't all bad: the warm sun, the
rain baths, balmy winds beneath inky wings. But the night is
full of the dead. And the dead are full of blood and the soft
tender.

The night is full of dangers unseen and Apollo's reasonable light gives
way to the shadows of the passions and the frightened fates of superstition
and magic.
When the compass becomes a cutlass and the triangle spins boom-
erang, maps reduce to sad, nostalgic paintings and science celebrates fire
with the slaughter of another sacred animal.

Stretched between these poles, in the shocking realization of the dynamo, one must
ask - Where does True Freedom lie?






















And now a word from Jack Parsons regarding the nature of freedom, it's consequences and necessity:

...The laws against mutually agreeable sex expression must be repealed, together with the laws prohibiting nudism, birth control and censorship. We must emphatically deny that love is criminal and that the body is indecent. We must affirm the beauty, the dignity, and joyousness and even the humor of sex.

Indeed there are obscene things in the light and in the darkness; things that deserve destruction: -- The exploitation of women for poor wages, the shameful degradation of minorities by the little lice who call themselves members of a 'superior race' and the deliberate machinations towards war. Nowhere among these genuine obscenities is there a place for the love shared by men and women. There are sins but love is not one of them and yet, of all the things that have been called sins, love has been the most punished and the most persecuted. Of all the beauties we know, the springtime of love is closest to paradise. And as all things pass, so love passes -- too soon. This most exquisite and tender of human emotions, this little moment of eternity, should be free and unrestrained. It should not be bought and sold, chained and restricted until lovers, caught in the maelstrom of economics and laws, are hounded like criminals. What end is served and who profits by such cruelty? Only priests and lawyers. Let us adhere to a strict morality where the rights and happiness of our fellow man is concerned. Let us call our true sins by their right names and expiate them accordingly -- but let our lovers go free.

If we are to achieve civilization and sanity, we must institute an educational program in love-making, birth control and disease prevention. Above all we must root out the barbaric and vicious concepts of shamefulness and indecency in sex, exposing the motives and methods of their proponents.

Happy are the parents who, as a result of sexual experimenting, are well mated, taking joy in each other's passion, seeing beauty in their nakedness and not fearing to expose their bodies or the bodies of their children. They would never shame their children for their natural sexual curiosity.

Jesus told the "fallen woman", "Go and sin no more" but I, who am a man, say to you who have given your body for the need of man's body, who have given your love freely for his spirit's sake; "Be blessed in the name of man. And if any god deny you for this, I will deny that god."

The ancients, being simple and without original sin, saw God in the act of love and therein they saw a great mystery, a sacrament revealing the bounty and the beauty of the force that made men and the stars. Thus they worshipped. Poor ignorant old Pagans! How we have progressed. What was most sacred to them, we see as a dirty joke. From this sordid joke we have played on ourselves only Woman Herself can redeem us. She has been the ignominious butt of the joke, the target of malice and arrogance and the scapegoat for masculine inferiority and guilt. She alone can redeem us from our crucifixion and castration. Only woman, of and by herself, can strike through the foolish frustration of the advertisers' ideal. She must elevate her strong, free and splendid image to take her place in the sun as an individual, a companion and mate fit for, and demanding no less than, true men.

Let there be an end to inhibition and an end to pretense. Let us discover what we are and be what we are, honestly and unashamedly. The rabbit has speed to recompense his fear, the panther strength to assuage his hunger. There is room for both even though the rabbit would probably prefer a world of rabbits (dull and overpopulated). All traits are useful wrath, fear, lust and even laziness -- if they are balanced by strength and intelligence. If we lie about things we call our weaknesses and sins, if we say that his is "evil" and that is "wrong", denying that such faults could be part of us, they will grow crooked in the dark. But when we have them out in the open; admitting them, facing them and accepting them, then we will be ashamed to leave any vestige of them secret to turn crippled and twisted. Fear can sharpen our wits against adversity. Anger and strength can be welded into a sword against tyrants both within and without. Lust can be trained to be the strong and subtle servant of love and art.

It is not necessary to deny anything. It is only necessary to know ourselves. Then we will naturally seek that which is needful to our being. Our significance does not lie in the extent to which we resemble others or in the extent to which we differ from them. It lies within our ability to be ourselves. This may well be the entire object of life; to discover ourselves, our meaning. This does not come in a sudden burst of illumination; it is a constant process which continues so long as we are truly alive. The process cannot continue unobstructed unless we are free to undergo all experience and willing to participate in all existence. Then the significant questions are not "is it right" or "is it good" but rather "how does it feel" and "what does it mean". Ultimately these are the only questions that can approach truth but they cannot be asked in the absence of freedom.


Freedom is a Two-Edged Sword, John Whiteside Parsons




Please take the time to check out my other vids, the archives of The Sleepless Film Festival, and more at my new You Tube channel:

Joe Nolan's Imagicon

Listen to "Mission" and the rest of my new CD - Blue Turns Black!


Joe%20NolanQuantcast
Love,
Joe Nolan

Use this player to listen to my new CD. Consider purchasing a song or two at your favorite digital outlet and help us stay awake here at Insomnia!

Check out my profile at Reverb Nation to see my updated press and bio.

Listen to my earlier releases, and enjoy free downloads here!

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Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Heroes in the Seaweed

Ciao lovelies,



I am drinking a bit of the blood and bleeding a bit of the luminous ink in this
here fine hour of the evening.

I am posting this as I watch the video of the Isle of Wight festival.



This 1970 fest was the biggest - and last - of its kind. Wight had all the hippy drapery of Woodstock as well as most of the bad vibes of Altamont.

Except for that whole stab-you-to-death part...

This show had a killer line-up including: Miles Davis, Joni, Jimi, The Doors and Leonard Cohen, Jethro Tull and others.

The vid is OK, but its hard to watch the hippy dream go down in flames.

What's so funny about peace, love and understanding?



On another note, I have been experimenting with my cell phone camera. I got frustrated when I found it hard to take a single pic. My cam always takes two at a time. I realized I was getting some fun effects when the cam moved between shots. Then I realized that I could take these shots and arrange them into a kind of stop-action movie.

Here is a video I made for my song "Mission".



Please take the time to check out my other vids, the archives of The Sleepless Film Festival, and more at my new You Tube channel:

Joe Nolan's Imagicon

Listen to "Mission" and the rest of my new CD - Blue Turns Black!


Joe%20NolanQuantcast
Love,
Joe Nolan

Use this player to listen to my new CD. Consider purchasing a song or two at your favorite digital outlet and help us stay awake here at Insomnia!

Check out my profile at Reverb Nation to see my updated press and bio.

Listen to my earlier releases, and enjoy free downloads here!

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