I never even thought about whether or not they understand what I'm doing...the emotional reaction is all that matters, as long as there's some feeling of communication, it isn't necessary that it be understood.
Perhaps the most musically accessible John Coltrane for new listeners is when he plays the Blues. The Blues is a form that is basic to a lot of American music, but most especially Jazz.
The first one is currently Diamond Streets. The second was on the corner of 29th and Diamond Streets. The last was really the first, it was near 33rd and Diamond Streets. Wish we could have kept them all.
I know many of you will remember Robbie Coltrane as Hagrid in the Harry Potter films. But, for me, he will always be Sir Jack Falstaff in Kenneth Branagh’s version of Henry V (the film that brought me to The Word of Will).
RIP Robbie.
“If sack and sugar be a fault,
God help the wicked! if to be old and merry be a
sin, then many an old host that I know is damned: if
to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine
are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto,
banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet Jack
Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff,
valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant,
being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him
thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's
company: banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.”
DONT ASK WHAT KIND OF DARK MAGIC I DID TO MANAGE TO REDO AND FINISH HALF OF THESE AND DO ALL OF THE REST IN TWO DAYS. HERES THE FIRST 14 SHIPURARY PROMPTS BARELY IN TIME. THE ALICE X FARMERS WIFE THING IS A CRACKSHIP BEX CAME UP W AND THE LAST ONE WAS FROM A REQUEST FOR SHEEPY THAT WAS GONNA BE AN ANIMATION ORIGINALLY BUT THAT ONE GOT CORRUPTED TOO. I HAVE LITTLE NOTES AND INFO ON EACH I WANT TO ADD BUT I AM TOO TIRED <///3 SO TOMORROW. ILL ALSO BE DOIN DAILY DRAWING FOR SHIPURARY FROM HERE ON OUT AGAIN THIS WAS BASICALLY A CATCHUP
@pyxehastoomanyinterests @samtheacesheep @pftones3482 (ASSUMING ITS OK TO TAG U FOR THE ALICE X FARMERS WIFE THING)
Crickets cackle crisp,
An only interruption, being I,
Atop dust, whisper and
Desert highway.
I’d tell you if I were running,
But I’m not quite sure, not yet,
Leaving only coyotes to eat crickets
And later, deliver answers unimpeded.
I have a faint memory –
A snake’s grip promised, her hand and
A later promise, once given by mystic;
Fulfilled in 17 years of thunder,
Steel stained crimson,
Street stained whimper
And forever remaining,
“Under-construction.”
A more relevant scaffold,
½ bamboo and the other steel,
The only purpose – elsewhere, unknown,
While I tap my belly to some
Melody we’d once enjoyed;
Maybe something by, “Coltrane,”
Or maybe not; but music we’d both
Recognize and reminisce to.
It’s an awkward alchemy of sorts,
As the crickets continue to chirp,
As the dust continues to cake,
As the whisper finds newer ears,
As interrupt’s abrupt, erupts,
Pacifies and interrupts again;
My precious distraction –
A respite loyal to away from, “then.”