#Bongo and caesar

[boricuacherry-blog]

Batacumbele [meaning "to kneel before the drum" in Yoruba] was founded in 1980 in San Juan, Puerto Rico by master percussionist Angel "Cachete' Maldonado and is one of the leading Afro-Caribbean ensembles in the world. It is to contemporary Puerto Rican music what Irakere is to Cuba.

When Angel wanted to become more serious about native Puerto Rican drumming, he sought out Julio 'Caesar' Maco Rivera. There were the traditional congas, bongos, timbales, and other hand drums, but he was also introduced to the bata drums and their Yoruban sacred ceremonial rituals of Orisha. At the time the bata drum was rarely played in Puerto Rico, this being a strong Cuban influence that would permeate later thanks to Angel's introduction of these drums to a greater audience.

Angel was soon good enough to join up with Johnny El Bravo, who fronted one of the most popular dance groups on the island. By 1970, salsa was very popular. This introduced Angel to other musicians, such as Julito Collazo and Carlos 'Patato' Valdes, the Cuban drum masters who brought awareness of the bata drums to New York, where Angel relocated in the early 70s to join the salsa explosion there.

Angel also played for salsa bands La Conspiracion, Conjunto Libre, and Tipica 73, and for salsa pianist Larry Harlow. He played with Gato Barbieri for four years after being asked to join his band. He even did some gigs with Dizzy Gillespie.

[fountainofstupidity]

Shakespeare with Bongo Cat, day 1

[ccohanlon]

my favourite things

sam shepard’s ‘motel chronicles’, glenn gould playing j.s. bach, books, gaff-rigged bristol pilot cutters, nautical charts, the idea of lamu island and zanzibar, ilford 35mm black & white film, expressions of love in spanish, the meaning of saudade, miles davis, john coltrane, conga drums and bongoes, the backstreets of marrakesh, naples and havana, my 20-year-old leather backpack, my leather-bound pocket atlas (a gift from a woman who worked for me), my maori bone hei matau, british ordnance survey maps, african and latina women, dark skin, long legs and firm round asses,‘oil notes’ by rick bass, joseph conrad’s ‘heart of darkness’, ‘the fly trap’ by fredrik sjöberg, bill drummond doing what he calls ‘art’ and his writings about it, malcolm mclaren talking about almost anything, german-made fountain pens, noodler’s inks, 20th century french novelists, analog moog synthesisers, joan didion’s early essays (especially ‘the white album’), the rolling stones’ original versions of ‘gimme shelter’ and ’sympathy for the devil’, ali farka touré’s modal riffs, the western isles and northwest coast of scotland in spring, the b&w photographs robert frank took in the ’50s as he drove across america, richard misrach’s ‘desert cantos’, wim wender’s ‘paris, texas’ and ‘wings of desire’ (i like his diaristic photo book, ‘once’, too), jim jarmusch’s ‘only lovers left alive’, indian ocean sailing dhows, old boat compasses, my vintage flying boat sextant, the cheap but accurate swiss wind-up watch my mother gave me when i first went to sea, that first glimpse of the mojave desert driving east from l.a. on interstate 40, and of morocco’s atlas mountains, at dawn, sailing through the straits of gibraltar from the west, the mediterranean sea, van morrison’s voice, and aretha franklin’s and julie driscoll’s, the ideas of john cage and of jean-luc godard, cornelius cardew’s ‘scratch music’, gorodish and alba in delacorta’s series of novels, ‘haunts of the black masseur’ by charles sprawson, peter beard’s collaged diaries, steve dilworth’s visceral sculpture, the smooth stones i’ve collected from beaches on three oceans, garlic, wasabi, peking duck in pancakes, ice-cold champagne (bollinger, when I can afford it, or louis roederer cristal), baden powell’s guitar-playing, samba, salvador de bahia, standing at the edge of an empty sahara, sailing a felucca up the nile, the writings of william burroughs, barry gifford and charlie smith, the history of zero, the smell of bangkok by the river at dawn, summer nights in tokyo, long periods of silence, hugging my children, playing my solid mahogany tenor ukulele (a 61st birthday gift from my wife), my fender telecaster and gibson lucille guitars, shona sculpture, an etching i have by armodio (‘l’urlatrice’), the songs of tom waits, alan ginsberg’s photos of beat writers – burroughs and paul bowles, especially – in new york and tangier, jack kerouac’s writings (even though i’ve outgrown them), ‘the outsider’ by colin wilson, bowles’ ‘the sheltering sky’, playing blackjack at caesars’, las vegas, in the early hours of a week-day morning, café tacuba’s huevos con molé in mexico city, the garden derek jarman made at prospect cottage in dungeness, jarman’s diaries, da vinci’s notebooks, don mccullin’s photographs and mary ellen mark’s when she was younger (the ones in goa), dancing alone to 60s’ soul music, the scent of frangipani, the white noise of heavy monsoonal rain, my long, old-school powell skateboard with big urethane wheels, early silver surfer comic books, 70s’ ‘avant-garde’ music scores from peters and universal edition, my all-mechanical olympus 35 sp camera and my rolleiflex tlr, cecil taylor on piano, dave holland on bass, ginger baker on drums, the movie version of joseph conrad’s ‘lord jim’, cary grant in ‘father goose’, david lean’s ‘lawrence of arabia’, donald cammell’s ‘perfomance’, snowdonia in mid-wales, taos in new mexico (and the sangre de cristo mountains), sailing close by stromboli on a calm, moonlit night, the smooth skin and skinny bodies of young japanese women, everything about italian women, palm trees, passionfruit, seedless grapes, mandarins, uncooked cherry tomatoes, the oakland raiders (even when they’re losing), swimming alone in a warm pool, the bath tubs at the ritz-carlton in singapore in the 90s, afternoon tea (pg tips) with scones, thick cream and damson jam (preferably tiptree’s), albert ayler on sax, derek bailey’s free-form solos on guitar, ‘colour: a natural history of the palette’ by victoria finlay, tom mccarthy’s ‘satin island’, william gibson’s science fiction, sylvie guillem dancing, van cliburn playing brahms’ second piano concerto, keith richards’ and john lee hooker’s grungy guitar licks, j.j. cale’s muted finger picking, the long solo voyages of bernard moitessier under sail and the writings that came from them, the voyages of david lewis and of bill tilman (aboard ‘mischief’), old tahiti ketches designed by john hanna, thomas colvin’s modern steel sailing junks, target shooting with a high-calibre handgun (like a colt python .357 magnum), watching dark frontal clouds gather ahead of a storm, the grim stillness of tornado weather in northern oklahoma, big hotel rooms, late night room service, landing in los angeles from the west late at night, yakitori at a basement place i know in hiroshima, the gharana of the tabla, welsh male voice choirs, playing scrabble, the lives of sir richard francis burton and t.e. lawrence, thom gunn’s poems, also e.e cummings’ and mira gonzalez’s, gore vidal on american politics, sex and other writers, the stone hanko engraved for me using an old form of katakana in hiroshima, hand-tooled knives, walking through rome early in the morning, rooftop terraces in trastevere, out-of-the-way trattorie in monti, vitello parmigiano, tortellini, stracciatella, and sambuca, the amalfi coast, iain sinclair writing about his walks around london, living in los angeles (when i have money), driving north from santa monica on the pacific coast highway, big sur 30 years ago,’60s american muscle cars, joyce singing ‘agua de março’ or astrud gilberto, or the version marisa monte and david byrne did for ‘red, hot and rio’, ‘sitting’ by cat stevens. ‘dumb things’ by paul kelly, the emotions singing ‘best of my love’, the idea of the congo and the mekong and of rusty tramp steamers sailing to up-river jungle ports, berlin in autumn just before the leaves fall, all the works of anselm kiefer and cy twombly, francesco clemente’s exotic watercolours, ‘the pugilist’ sculpted in iron by robert brennan, marilyn manson’s ‘we’re killing strangers’, smokey robinson’s ’tracks of my tears’, the first whiff of salt air and coconut oil at an australian surf beach, longboarding on a glassy point break at wategos in byron bay, the mexican movie ‘y tu mama tambien’, almodovar’s ‘todo sobre mi madre’ and ‘matador’, cluttered but stylish old parisian apartments, any clapboard boatshed and jetty on a quiet bay or river bank, a stone cottage above a rocky north atlantic shore (in nova scotia, maybe, or shetland), solitude.

First published in Sick Lit magazine, USA, 2015.

[corporationkills]

et tu, bongo? (what caesar aka clownsar would say if the ides of march happened in an alternate clown universe)

[knifefather]

i like to think caesar is a thigh man and i want him to grab at my thighs like he’s kneading dough ya know??

-columba, being horny on knifefathers asks for the 7 billionth time

Columba, NEVER stop being horny, we love your horny on this blog!!! Caesar is a goof (like Joseph) lowkey and he likes to play bongos on your thighs and ass shshdhs Laying on your thighs and kneading them with his rough, calloused hands is a must for him. He also likes seeing them jiggle a bit when you walk and of course, our sweet blond baby adores having your thighs wrapped around his head in the bedroom <3 Seeing the indentations in your skin that his fingers make really gets him going. Caesar quite enjoys how soft your body is in general. AND HOW COULD I FORGET. When you wear thigh-high socks and a little bit of your thigh chub sticks out over the top of the garment he pops a boner instantly 👀

[chiseler]

3000 Beatniks Riot

Half a century before Occupy Wall Street, young protesters occupied Greenwich Village's Washington Square Park. Like OWS, they ended up clashing with the police. Unlike OWS so far, their protest produced a small but practical and lasting change.

In the spring of 1961, the Washington Square Association, a community group of homeowners around the square, appealed to New York City's Department of Parks and Recreation to do something about the hundreds of "roving troubadours and their followers" playing music around the square's turned-off fountain on Sunday afternoons. They were mostly college kids, playing guitars and banjos and singing folk songs. The practice had started in the post-war years, when Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger planted the seeds of the folk musical revival in the Village. By 1961 it had grown enough that both the police and the neighbors found the "troubadours" and the tourists they attracted a nuisance. In his posthumously-published memoir, Dave Van Ronk recalls that there were various cliques in the park: a Zionist group singing and dancing "Hava Nagila," Stalinists, bluegrass fans, folk traditionalists. Black journalist John A. Williams reported that the locals' complaints were not really musical but social: "In the ensuing meetings with city officials, it became apparent that what was opposed was not so much folk singing as the increasing presence of mixed couples in the area, mostly Negro men and white women." In the late 1950s the parks commission began issuing permits to limit the number of musicians, allowing them to "sing and play from two until five as long as they had no drums," Van Ronk writes. This "kept out the bongo players. The Village had bongo players up the wazoo... and we hated them. So that was some consolation." He doesn't mention that those bongo-players were very often black. This racial aspect had an old historical precedent in Greenwich Village. In 1819, white residents of the area complained "of being much annoyed by certain persons of color practising as Musician with Drums and other instruments through the Village."

In 1961 the parks commissioner responded to the complaints by refusing to issue any permits at all. Izzy Young of the Folklore Center and others organized a peaceful protest demonstration. On Sunday, April 9, 1961, a few hundred young people gathered, attracting a few hundred more spectators. Among the latter was eighteen-year-old Dan Drasin, a mild-mannered kid who liked to hang out in the park. He brought one of the big, boxy film cameras of the era and documented the afternoon in a short black-and-white film, Sunday. The film shows clean-cut college and high school kids, many of the girls in Jackie O hairdos and heels, many of the boys looking like the young Allen Ginsbergs with serious, sensitive, owlish faces behind heavy black-framed glasses. They carry hand-written placards and cardboard guitars and argue with the dozens of beefy, florid-faced cops who've shown up. Izzy Young, also bespectacled and in jacket and tie, lectures the cops about the constitutional right to make music as the kids sit in a circle in the dry fountain and sing "This Land Is Your Land" and "The Star-Spangled Banner." As protests go it all looks low-key and polite. Then paddy wagons arrive and the cops haul off one nebbishy young man cradling an autoharp, pushing him into a prowl car. According to Drasin, most of the singers and musicians had left the park, leaving the few hundred spectators loitering around the fountain, when the cops' tempers finally boiled over. They wade into the crowd, shoving boys and girls to the ground, mauling them, dragging a handful into the paddy wagons. Reportedly they knocked some heads with their clubs, although it's not shown in the film. The whole event, Drasin says, lasted maybe two hours.

The next day, the New York Daily Mirror, the conservative Hearst tabloid, ran a giant war-is-over front page headline, "3000 BEATNIKS RIOT IN VILLAGE." Other local papers followed suit. That week's Voice scoffed at the Mirror's "hysterical" coverage, wondering if there were three thousand beatniks in the entire country that Sunday, let alone in Washington Square Park. By May, the outrage caused by the cops' overreaction forced the city to back down and issue permits, a practice that continues to this day.

Among the protesters hauled off that day was the Village character H. L. "Doc" Humes, identified in the Mirror as a "scofflaw" and the "mob leader." Humes was a gregarious polymath, a novelist and raconteur, co-founder of The Paris Review, designer of cheap housing made from old newspapers, director of a lost film updating the Don Quixote story as Don Peyote, LSD pioneer with Timothy Leary, later helper to Norman Mailer when he ran for mayor in 1969, later still a paranoid drug casualty who believed UFOs, CIA and the Pope in Rome were out to get him. He would not have been a stranger to the cops in the park that day. Just a few months earlier, he'd had a very public spat with Police Commissioner Stephen Kennedy.

It started in October 1960, when cops shut down a performance by Lord Buckley at the Jazz Gallery in the East Village. Lord Buckley was a stately man with sleek gray hair and a pointy Daliesque mustache, who often performed in a tux and orated in a plummy, faux-British voice, seeming every bit the vaudeville and burlesque master of ceremonies he once was. But what came out of his mouth was pure hepcat jive he'd learned from the jazz musicians and pot-smokers with whom he'd associated since the 1930s. In the 1950s he started to recast biblical stories, historical texts like the Gettysburg Address, and Shakespeare in White Negro proto-rap: "Hipsters, flipsters and finger-poppin' daddies, knock me your lobes. I came here to lay Caesar out, not to hip you to him." It sounds like novelty schtick today, but in Eisenhower's America there was something inherently subversive about a man who looked like the maitre d' at a fancy restaurant jiving like a viper. "His Royal Hipness" had a lot of fans and friends downtown, where he performed and hung out whenever he was in New York.

The cops halted Buckley's gig because of a problem with his cabaret card. Since 1941, anyone who worked in a New York City nightclub, from performers to the hat check girl and the busboys, had to get fingerprinted and carry a picture ID card. If you had any police record, you couldn't have a card, which meant you couldn't work. It was intended to weed the Mob out of the nightclub business, but it could be disastrous for performers. Billie Holiday, Thelonious Monk and Charlie Parker all had their cards yanked for drug violations; Lenny Bruce lost his because of an obscenity conviction; exotic dancer Sally Rand, refused a card in 1947 because the cops thought her fan dance too risqué, took the NYPD to court over it and won. Buckley lost his because he'd failed to report a pot bust that went back to the 1940s. Without the card, he couldn't perform in New York City, including a scheduled appearance on his old friend Ed Sullivan's tv show (they'd toured together with the USO during the war).

Despondent, Buckley called his pal Humes. Humes talked his Paris Review friend George Plimpton into letting Buckley give a little performance at a party in his Upper East Side apartment, with the idea that Plimpton's influential crowd might help him get Buckley's card reinstated. With Village jazzman David Amram at the piano, Buckley went into his schtick. The response was cool. Plimpton's literary swells had come to sip cocktails and talk about themselves, not listen to Village-y jazzbo jive. Buckley the old vaudevillian worked hard to win them over, pulling out bit after bit, overstaying his unwelcome. As the crowd grew increasingly bored and angry, Norman Mailer started heckling. Amram remembers that Buckley finally gave up, then "came over to the piano and whispered in my ear, 'Let's split and get out of here, man.'"

It turned out to be Lord Buckley's farewell performance. He died of a stroke shortly afterwards, at the age of fifty-four. Art D'Lugoff offered the use of the Village Gate for a memorial service, at which Ornette Coleman and Dizzy Gillespie played for a large crowd of Buckley's friends and admirers. He was laid to out at the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Chapel on the Upper East Side, New York's funeral home to the stars. (Rudolph Valentino, John Lennon, Jackie Onassis, Nikola Tesla, James Cagney, Igor Stravinsky, Norman Mailer, Heath Ledger, Judy Garland and Candy Darling were all laid out there.)

Humes, Mailer, Amram and others then started a public campaign to end the cabaret card system. Humes charged that police harassment had killed Buckley, and claimed that if Buckley had only slipped the right cop a hundred bucks the whole thing would have been settled under the table. That enraged Commissioner Kennedy, who retaliated by tossing Humes in jail for unpaid parking tickets and ordering up the biggest crackdown on cabarets and nightclubs in years, sending cops to more than 1200 venues looking for non-card-carrying workers. But this protest worked as well. Kennedy was sacked for his overreaction, and though it took another seven years, the cabaret card system was eventually abolished.

by John Strausbaugh

[kvetchlandia]

Art Frisch     Beatnik Hangout, the Co-Existence Bagel Shop, North Beach, San Francisco     1958

Shadow people, projected on coffee-shop walls Memory formed echoes of a generation past Beating into now.

Nightfall creatures, eating each other Over a noisy cup of coffee.

Mulberry-eyed girls in black stockings, Smelling vaguely of mint jelly and last night's bongo drummer, Making profound remarks on the shapes of navels, Wondering how the short Sunset week Became the long Grant Avenue night, Love tinted, beat angels, Doomed to see their coffee dreams Crushed on the floors of time, As they fling their arrow legs To the heavens, Losing their doubts in the beat.

Turtle-neck angel guys, black-haired dungaree guys, Caesar-jawed, with synagogue eyes, World travelers on the forty-one bus, Mixing jazz with paint talk, High rent, Bartok, classical murders, The pot shortage and last night's bust. Lost in a dream world, Where time is told with a beat.

Coffee-faced Ivy Leaguers, in Cambridge jackets, Whose personal Harvard was a Fillmore District step, Weighted down with conga drums, The ancestral cross, the Othello-laid curse, Talking of Bird and Diz and Miles, The secret terrible hurts, Wrapped in cool hipster smiles, Telling themselves, under the talk, This shot must be the end, Hoping the beat is really the truth.

The guilty police arrive.

Brief, beautiful shadows, burned on walls of night.

--Bob Kaufman, “Bagel Shop Jazz” 

(Kaufman’s poem, “Bagel Shop Jazz,” was written about, and possibly while hanging out in, the Co-Existence Bagel Shop).

[creativegodtiers]

Prompt Response: Upstart/Exodus Scenario

(apologies for the troll quirks 😔) “yo,” Virave, the Knight, said, lying sideways across their chair. “there’-S a lil -Situation -Stirrin up” “Yes, I Gathered bY the fact You’d called us all into the Situation Room,” Evelit, known to the mortals as the Mage, said with a raise of her eyebrow. “be nIce!!” Lilith, the Sylph, admonished, before turning back to her moirail. “what’s the matter??” “okey doke, here’s the thing,” the Knight said. With a flick of their hands, a small figure appeared on the table, bearing a smug smile and a toga. Lilith leaned in to inspect the figure. “Caesar?” “no i think that is the chicken man,” Summer, aka the Rogue of Void, said solemnly. “Don’t be ridiculous,” the Mage admonished. “{summer has a p(o)int. he greatly resembles the chicken man,}” Wisria, the Heir of Space, said. “I don’t know who that is,” Evelit mumbled. “haha!! smartie Doesnt know something!!” Summer crowed. “Fuck off.” “can we get back on track?” the Knight demanded. There was silence. “thank-S. thi-S guy claim-S he’-S a ‘better’ god, the ‘true’ one.” They tapped a claw on the table, narrowly missing the little figure. “-So far a-S i can tell, he’-S a de-Scendant of one of u-S who got hopped up on power and ha-S a literal god complex. needle-S-S to -Say, i want thi-S twink obliterated. who want-S to go put the fear of the god-S in hi-S heart with me?” The Rogue, the Sylph, and the Witch (also known as Elmara) immediately raised their hands. “{i d(o)n’t like c(o)nfr(o)ntati(o)n, but if y(o)u need a s(o)lar eclipse, text me,}” the Counter of Stars said with a small smile. Evelit sighed. “This could Go a lot of waYs. If I See You start makinG bad choices, I’ll alert You throuGh the usual method.” “texting “DONT DO IT DUMBASSES” to the group chat,” Virave said with a nod. “got it.” The man—his name has been lost to mortal minds, but we’ll call him Chad, because he was so a Chad—stepped down from his platform. The people adored his message, his speeches were on point as always, and just as he’d thought, those so-called Creators were either not real or too detached to do anything about it. “yo.” Chad glanced over to see four unassuming troll youngsters. He had to stifle a chuckle—three of them had their arms crossed and one was leaning her elbow on another, the very picture of teenage skepticism. Regardless, he would convince them. He was very convincing. “What can I do for you?” he said, putting on his best smile. He’d never been fond of trolls, but more followers were always needed. “A little birdie t+ld me y+u’re playing at g+dh++d,” one said, moving forward. Her red skirt swirled around her feet. Chad idly wondered how she avoided tripping. “I’m not playing, my dear, I am a god. A better god, in tune with the people, not sequestered in my tower all the time like some ‘gods’.” “okay but like heres the thing” one girl said, stepping forward. Chad wondered what caste these trolls were-none of them had a sign, and the dark blue of this girl’s shirt didn’t point to one specific caste. “the gods r literally always out n about u just gotta LOOK DuDe” Chad scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. If the gods are so active, why haven’t we seen them in action recently?” “maybe you haven’t,” the jadeblood (you could tell by the scarf) girl muttered. Something clicked in Chad’s head. “Ah. You’re going to try to prove you are the gods.” “well, he caught on...decently fast,” the jadeblood said to her comrades. “so how we gonna play this?” the blue shirted one said. Chad felt a sting of mild irritation that they were ignoring him in favor of keeping up the “gods” facade. “okay, here’-S my idea. i -Shank him, and lilith heal-S the wound,” the one who hadn’t spoken before said. They pulled a knife from their yellow coat and twirled it easily in their hand. Lilith (presumably) gently whacked them on the arm. “don’t be sIlly! we‘re under some sort of oath not to harm mortals, aren’t we?” “no,” the other one grumbled, “but fine, i gue-S-S.” “I c+uld d+ the timey thing,” the one with the red dress suggested. There was a chime and she looked down. “Ah. N+pe. Evelit says bad idea. Damn.” Chad couldn’t deny a stirring of fear in his chest, but he pushed it down. “If you are the gods, then which ones are you?” “fuck yes!!” Lilith cheered. “transformatIon sequence tIme!!” “Yes,” Red Skirt Girl said. “HELL ye-S,” Knife Kid said. “hell fuckin yes” Blue Shirt said. “Can I g+ first?” Red Skirt Girl said. “I’ve been practicing.” Everyone nodded, so she took a breath in and began to twirl. The edges of her skirt flew up, revealing striped green stockings, which quickly became a blue as she spun faster and faster until- A glittery green shoe clicked hard against the pavement and the girl stopped, beaming with pride. Her skirt settled around her, shorter and fluffier now, her sleeves longer and— The Timecrest emblazoned proudly on the front. “The Wild One,” Chad whispered, unable to keep a hint of reverence from his tone. The Goddess of Tune did a very silly bow. “In the flesh.” “me neXt!!” Blue Shirt cried, clapping her hands. She closed her eyes and- Chad couldn’t quite describe it. She seemed to almost fold in on herself, imploding, but before she could implode all the way, she was back, suddenly, fully formed. She was still wearing the oversized blue shirt and black leggings, but now she had fingerless gloves, a domino mask, boots, and most importantly, the Voidcrest on her shirt. “The R-g-e of ——“ Chad said. Or, well, not really said so much as half-choked. The Rogue grinned. “Someone knows their history!” “So you’re-“ Chad turned to the other two. The jadeblood girl simply flicked her hands and the scarf transformed into flowing ribbons, the dress lengthened, and the Lifecrest bloomed into existence, along with several flowers springing up around her feet. “I thInk some people call me the Goddess of UprIsIng, whIch Is great, don’t you thInk?” The one remaining had apparently already changed, into the glowing golden cape and matching shirt and pants of.. “The Speaker of Truths,” Chad said. “Bingo bongo,” the Knight deadpanned. Chad took a deep breath in. No matter. He was still the better god, even alone. He had something they didn’t! “Well, regardless of your flashy transformation sequences, you are out of touch,” Chad declared. “The people have forgotten you, and a new god—a better, friendlier god—is here.” “woooow,” the Rogue drawled. “i cant even...ive seen stupiD, but this is something else.” “can i plea-Se ju-St -Shank him?” the Knight said, twirling their knife. The Sylph gently patted their cheek. “shoooosh.” “can we call in a solar eclipse now?” the Rogue said, but the Witch shook her head. “It w+n’t d+ any g++d. This is a matter +f rhetoric.” “OH!!” the Sylph said suddenly. “I’ve got an Idea!” She turned to Chad. “when’s your next sermon?” Chad checked the time. “A few minutes, actually.” “great! we’re comIng,” the Sylph said, and shoved past him, dragging the Knight along. Chad, confused, followed. When he arrived on stage, a crowd was already gathered, expectant. The gods stood off to one side, leaving the microphone available. Chad stepped up, tapped it a couple times, and told himself his mantra in his head. You are powerful. You are mighty. You are open. You are a god. “Helllooo, my people!” “our people,” a clear, commanding voice cut in. Everyone turned, and when they saw the gods, gasps and whispers broke out. “is it gonna b a rap off” the Rogue stage-whispered to the Knight. “nah,” the Knight said back. “i think i get what -Sylphie’-S plan i-S.” The Sylph started to walk towards the podium, and her friends followed, creating a strange little parade. “um. hello,” the Sylph said into the microphone, and the whispers increased. “thIs man claIms we have abandoned you, that we are out of touch. he lIes. we are among you, always, and not even fIguratIvely. who here has been to a protest recently that turned sour?” A few people raised their hands. The Sylph nodded, pointing at one of them. “you. protest for goldblood psIonIc headache medIcatIon to be legalIzed? there were a bunch of sonIc blasts, but somehow no one got burned. that was me helpIng. best of luck, btw.” “you, the one with the nice jacket,” the Knight said, and the people quieted, because the Speaker of Truths would not lie to them. “i told your mom -She had to get you vaccinated. did -She?” “Y-Yeah,” the kid said, looking shocked and maybe a little overwhelmed at having this attention put on them. “She did.” The Knight nodded, satisfied. “Y+u,” the Witch said, pointing at a young woman. “We fucked +nce. Last week, actually. Call me?” “okay, well, that Isn’t the best example-“ the Sylph said. “we went 2 a rave together!!” the Rogue said, pointing at yet another startled face. “wait, u 2? aw fuck man. i cant believe uve done this.” “-So, we gonna -Smite the-Se dork-S?” the Knight, and the crowd all backed up a bit. Chad, for his part, was eyeing the mic as if weighing the chances of being able to grab it back vs the chances of the Knight “shanking” him. “nah, they’re good,” the Sylph said. “just needed a lIttle remInder of theIr real gods, I thInk.” “sure we shoulDnt try 2 push that reminDer a bit?” the Rogue said hopefully. The Sylph smiled. “Already texting Wisria,” the Witch said. The Rogue stepped forward and raised their hands dramatically. “citizens! in the interest of fairness, we will allow this chaD here 2 give a lil Demo of his talents.” Chad stepped forward, looking like a man who had just seen his own death and was not at all pleased with the indignity of it. “Yes. Ahem...observe!” He pulled an apple from thin air, spun it around with a flourish, and then tapped it, It instantly aged and became a wrinkled and gray mush. “Cute,” the Witch said. The Rogue nodded. “one of urs. alright, y’all got the flashy anD non fatal powers. take it away!” The Sylph seemingly spontaneously grew a pair of jade wings and fluttered over the heads of the crowd. With a hum, she perched on a tree and gestured to the Witch, who sprouted matching wings of her own and joined her. Together, the two managed to age a small tree to the point where it’s shadow fell upon the whole gathering (considerably grown by now), and then to the point where it died. The Sylph then casually regrew all its limbs, and the two leapt down from their now considerably heightened perch. “Alright, our turn,” the Knight said, and right on cue, the sun went out. There were several gasps and a few shrieks, but everyone fell silent when the glowing Crests of the gods appeared in the sky, bright enough almost to replace the sun. Then they faded, the sun reappeared, and the gods took a bow in the style of stage plays. “learned your lesson, dearIe??” the Sylph said to Chad as the Rogue shoved him in front of the mic. Chad looked down at his feet, not meeting the eyes of what had once been his congregation. “I...I am not a god.” “damn right,” the Knight said. “alrighty, peace out y’all.” “stay safe!!” the Sylph cried. “keep an eye out 4 us,” the Rogue said with a wink. “Call me!” the Witch said, pointing again at the young woman in the crowd she had singled out before. And the four ascended away, pleased with a job well done.

[uneasylisteningradio]

Transistor Sister Shows #49 and 50

Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood

Transistor Sister hit the big 5-0 and I didn’t even notice! Doing a 2 hour themed show and then a 1-hour unthemed one has been a pretty perfect arrangement, especially since it enables me to play more new music. So here’s to 50 more of these!

link to show 49 audio

link to show 50 audio Show 49 Playlist: Freddy "Boom Boom" Cannon - Transistor Sister No Hope for the Kids - Kolyma

DJ speaks over X-Ray Spex - Warrior in Woolworths (demo)

The San Francisco Trolley Company - Signs Model Zero - Missile Protector The Crew Cuts - 920 Special Thee Mighty Caesars - I've Been Waiting The Sonics - Strychnine

Golden Pelicans - Lady Radiation The Rezillos - It's Getting Me Down Born - Audn The Deadly Snakes - Gore Veil Hates - Houston Nikki and the Corvettes - Shake It Up The Cowsills - Beautiful Beige

The Cramps - I Can't Hardly Stand It Orville Peck - Queen of the Rodeo Born Dead Icons - Great Western Mistake Kohu-63 - Rakkaus On Sairautta Men Without Hats - The Real World

Parliament - Children of Production

Show 50 Playlist: Freddy "Boom Boom" Cannon - Transistor Sister The Undisputed Truth - What It Is

DJ speaks over X-Ray Spex - Warrior in Woolworths (demo)

Soda Fraise - Ca Baigne dans l'Huile Girl Friday - Decoration/Currency Blue Mountain Eagle - Love Is Here

Bent Wind - Sacred Cows The Living Eyes - Almanac Cobra Man - Living in Hell Nancy & Lee - Sundown, Sundown Bocal 5 - Folie D'Ice Durand Jones & the Indications - What I Know About You Little Joey and the Flips - Bongo Stomp GBH - Give Me Fire

Antibalas - Who Is This America?

[twoheadeddogmusic]

A BLOODY JAZZ & ROCK RUMBLE! / BONGO JAZZ STYLINGS & REPREHENSIBLE RUFFIANS! From the glorious power triad of Modern Harmonic, Something Weird Video, and the Nicholas Carras estate. Caesar & Dait bait joins Mr. Peters’ Pets as part of the Nicholas Carras Soundtrack Collection created from the vast collection of reels the estate preserved. All make their first LP soundtrack debut and all come from the Carras reels through Kevin Gray at Cohearent Audio and onto colored vinyl at Third Man Pressing. Available for preorder! #cultfilm #50s #jazz #rockandroll #soundtrack #filmscore #vinyl #vinylrecord #vinylrecords #modernharmonic https://www.instagram.com/p/Bz83KwyF6uh/?igshid=10klrj4c9mpq9

[blueberryraptorcrumble]

Dnd highlights

We saved an orchard from being pestered by baboons. The thrikreen bard befriended one, and has named it Caesar. Somehow it learns to play bongos. Later the two bards (and baboon) enter an “America’s got talent” style competition, won the first round with Caesar scoring higher than the actual bards (who also didn’t do to bad). Second round we lost horribly to a drunkard who vomited onstage (or something of the like. His performance role was a 2, somehow we rolled a 1). We won bronze.

Later we’re treated to a scene at a local elfy tavern (in the town where the bard festival was taking place) while looking for information for finding the local captain of the ship in port to grant us passage, the thrikreen bard (disguised as a little girl via illusion via magic ukulele) orders and eats a whole boar (shortly after arguing with the half-dragon about the practicality and price of such a meal). Thankfully our tinker gnome convinces the captain to allow us aboard at a discount.

Once aboard, after a few stops before our destination we’re attacked by pirates. Elf monk casts a few magic spells killing the opposing helmsman, while the rest of the party deals with the ones that boarded. Caesar *almost* dies from the half dragon’s acid breath- which also took out 2 pirates and the boarding ropes, half dragon uses bard skills to keep them alive. More pirates board, one gets destroyed in a lifeboat from the elf monks elven cat. Half dragon tackles a pirate and knocks them overboard. And last pirate is eviscerated by the captain who was apparently a were tiger. Pirates try to run, gnome firebolts last connecting rope, and they escape. Minimal damage to our ship. A storm approaches and knocks gnome overboard. The elven cat jumps in and saves the gnome. Oh! And we healed Caesar, though he’s missing some fur.

That’s it for this session.

Apparently half dragon miiiight also have a cult or something?

[trackunknownblog]

Jitwam - Opendoors

Michael Kiwanuka, Tom Misch - Money 

King Princess - Cheap Queen

Hatchie - Obsessed

Jay Som - Superbike

HONEYMOAN - Low Blow

Generationals - Breaking Your Silence

Delacey - My Man

Cut Copy - Ocean Blue

Charlotte Gainsbourg - Bombs Away (Toro y Moi Remix)

Metronomy - Lately

Buzzy Lee, Tommy Mandel - Close Encounters

CamelPhat, Jake Bugg - Be Someone

Monster Rally - Menagerie

Kate Bollinger - Untitled

Francis and the Lights - Do u Need Love?

Kindness, Jazmine Sullivan - Hard To Believe

Babeheaven - Seabird

Bon Iver - Hey, Ma

Clairo - Closer To You

Casey Veggies - The Ceiling

Lexx, Woolfy - Too Hot

Crumb - JinxL'éclair - Castor MacDavid

OJR - Sexy Music

Penelope Isles - Leipzig

Temples - Hot Motion

Triptides - Nirvana Now

Pixx - Small Mercies

Yeasayer - Ecstatic Baby

Mark Ronson, King Princess - Pieces of Us

Caroline Polachek - Door

Free Nationals, Mac Miller, Kali Uchis - Time

Theophilus London, Tame Impala - Whiplash

Toro y Moi - Who I Am (Channel Tres Remix)

Thom Yorke - Traffic

sir Was, Little Dragon - Deployed

GoldLink, Tyler, The Creator, Jay Prince - U Say

Yuna, Little Simz - Pink Youth

Quantic - September Blues

Kate Bollinger - Je Rêverai à Toi

Quiet Man, Joy Anonymous - Naked in the Cold

Freddie Gibbs, Madlib - Crime Pays

Kit Sebastian - Tyranny 20

Vanishing Twin - Magician's Success

The Chemical Brothers - Eve Of Dubstruction

Bleached - Hard to Kill

Tijuana Panthers - Little Pamplemousse

The Black Keys - Walk Across The Wate

rSleater-Kinney - Hurry On Home

Spoon - No Bullets Spent

Andrew Combs - Stars Of Longing

Snail Mail - The 2nd Most Beautiful Girl In The World

Steve Gunn - Be Still Moon

Lucy Dacus - Forever Half Mast

Bedouine - Sunshine Sometimes

Faye Webster - Hurts Me Too

Rayland Baxter - 2009

Daniel Caesar, John Mayer - SUPERPOSITION

San Fermin - The Hunger

Pete Yorn - Calm Down

Ofelia K - Different

Japanese Breakfast - Head Over Heels

Sufjan Stevens - Love Yourself

Okey Dokey, Dent May - Thick and Thin

the bird and the bee - Ain't Talking 'Bout Love

Superorganism - Everybody Wants To Be Famous (Polo & Pan Remix)

Hot Chip - Melody of Love

YACHT - (Downtown) Dancing

ROSALÍA - Aute Cuture

Jamila Woods - GIOVANNI

Arlo Parks - george

Amber Mark - What If

Sampa the Great - Final Form

Caterina Valente - Bongo Cha Cha Cha *6/26 Spider-Man: Far From Home Premiere

[melania-raquelaleksandrawilliams]

Melasar 😉

who hogs the duvet: Melanie, she’s very tiny and cold.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going: Melanie, mostly to make sure the dogs are fed and the house wasn’t burnt down.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: Caesar, he gave her a unicorn shaped joint.

who gets up first in the morning: Melanie, Caesar works nights.

who suggests new things in bed: Melanie.

who cries at movies: Melanie

who gives unprompted massages: Melanie

who fusses over the other when they’re sick: Neither fuss.

who gets jealous easiest: Caesar.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music: Melanie.

who collects something unusual: I don’t think either of them really do?

who takes the longest to get ready: Caesar, mostly because I think he’s hard to get moving.

who is the most tidy and organised: Neither of them

who gets most excited about the holidays: I don’t think either of them are particularly gungho. 

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Caesar, I don’t think Melanie likes being contained.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: They mock those people.

who starts the most arguments: I think Caesar, but not to be a dick they’re mostly playful.

who suggests that they buy a pet: Both.

what couple traditions they have: ...Errr, they mock those?

what tv shows they watch together: American Horror Story.

what other couple they hang out with: Do they?

how they spend time together as a couple: Mocking bongo playing hipsters.

who made the first move: Melanie and it was quick.

who brings flowers home: They aren’t into that.

who is the best cook: Melanie?

[afrojuke]

Dremo – Wonder Ft. Creen Caesar & Patoranking (MP3 DOWNLOAD)

https://ift.tt/3i2wEA0

[DOWNLOAD NOW] Dremo drops novel single titled “Shock“. The song functions Creen Caesar and Patoranking. The song is taken off his newly launched physique of labor titled “7 Wonders The EP“. RELATED:   Dremo – Pepper Download, hear and revel in! Dremo – Shock Toes. Creen Caesar & Patoranking https://ift.tt/3ACU3iH DOWNLOAD MP3

AfroJuke - Download Mp3, Latest Naija Music, Latest Bongo flava, South African, Ghana Music & More!

from AfroJuke https://ift.tt/3lUF0uz

[trskinfo]

Афиша мероприятий Курбан-Байрам на Северном Кипре в 2020 году

New Post has been published on http://trskinfo.ru/2020/07/30/afisha-meropriyatij-kurban-bajram-na-severnom-kipre-v-2020-godu/

Афиша мероприятий Курбан-Байрам на Северном Кипре в 2020 году

Курбан-Байрам -это мусульманский праздник жертвоприношения и в 2020 году выпадает на 31 июля.

История праздника

Сам праздник жертвоприношения связан с довольно известным библейским сюжетом. Он же описан и в Коране. Однажды пророку Ибрахиму (Ибрагиму, он же Авраам в христианской и иудейской традициях) Всевышний повелел принести в жертву своего сына Исмаила (в христианстве и иудаизме Исаака). Пророк, конечно, сильно опечалился, но перечить Божьей воле не решился.Тогда он повел сына в долину Мина к тому месту, где ныне стоит Мекка. И начал там приготовления к обряду. А сын даже не сопротивлялся, лишь только молился. Когда Ибрагим уже занёс руку для удара ножом, Аллах сделал так, что он не смог резать. И тогда человеческая жертва была заменена на ягнёнка. О празднике и необходимости совершать жертвоприношения в этот день говорится в Коране. А пророк Мухаммед разъяснил, как именно проводить этот обряд.

Так как на Северный Кипр относится к мусульманской стране, здесь принято праздновать Курбан-Байрам, многие киприоты празднуют этот праздник дома со своей семьей, а после посещают различные мероприятия. Мы составили для вас небольшую афишу мероприятий на праздничные дни Курбан-Байрама в 2020 году.

Фамагуста

31 Июля — Группа Freekans — The Shamrock

1 Августа — DJ Ufuk — The Shamrock

31 Июля, 1 и 2 Августа Музыканты Hasim Volkan и Dogan Hacioglu — Zagato

31 Июля — Oguz Yaradanakul — Cafe №8

2 Августа — Osman Tugsal — Cafe №8

3 Августа — Utku Gizem — Cafe №8

31 Июля — Hasan Ceylanli Acoustic Band — De Molay

1 Августа — Cihan Tunceli Band — De Molay

2 Августа — Eril Cambaz — De Molay

31 Августа — Турецкая Ночь — Lucca Caesar Resort

Никосия

31 Июля Coskuner, 1 Августа Gizem Akbil, 2 Августа — Cagil & Dervis Isguzar — Quota

31 Июля — Saffet Anibal Acoustic — Araf cafe

1 Августа — Erdogan Asik Acoustic — Araf cafe

2 Августа — Havva Ozdemirag & Uzay Menekay — Araf cafe

31 Июля — Niyal Ozturk Band — Karal Wine & Spirit House

Кирения

31 Июля — Guliz Ayla — Coco Bongo

1 Августа — 80-90е — Coco Bongo

2 Августа — Umut Ozsoy — Coco Bongo

31 Июля — Ahmet Evan & Hikmet Kurtariciogullari, 1 Августа — Memduh, 2 Августа — Reva, 3 Августа — Ibrahim Kanioz — Papageno

31 Июля — Rnb & Edm — Cage Club

1 Августа — Танцевальная вечеринка — Cage Club

2 Августа — DJ Baris Pulat & DJ G — Cage Club

31 Июля — Arif Edizer, 1 Августа — Fasul -The Ship Inn Meyhane

31 Июля — DJ Ugur Atay, 1 Августа — Serdar Bingol, 2 Августа — DJ Reverse Impact

31 Июля — Ночь Mor ve Otesi. 1 Августа — DJ Dervis Ozyapark & DJ Boysan — Bar O Monte

31 Июля — Olga Matiuc & Ahmet Sonmezler — Avenue Hotel

31 Июля — 80-90е — Sky Lounge

31 Июля — Normender — Club Q

2 Августа — Cielo — Club Q

31 Июля — Street Band — Odyssey

1 Августа — Rio de Odyssey — Odyssey

2 Августа — Legendary Sunday — Odessey

С 31 Июля по 3 Августа — Живая музыка — Hurdeniz

Желаем всем провести хорошее время. Если у вас есть афиши, которые мы не добавили на портал, в этом случае свяжитесь с нами: info@trskinfo.ru

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