seeking_brilliance

@Eternal Unity @Eternal Unity What is this from? Is this your writing? Google was no help on the title.. ?

Song of the Siren (art by Patrick Jeremy McCollum) ******************* Captain's log - May 22nd, 1783 We spotted land today, and are sure to arrive by tomorrow's morn. The search has been long and wearisome, but the crew has found a new vigor in hope of sand beneath their feet once more. Or perhaps it’s the song we've been hearing, rising up from the crashing waves in sweet intoxication. A maiden's voice I believe, I can hear it even now. Jensen, a close friend and counsellor, assures us that it is naught but an effect of cabin fever-- simply a wistful mirage in the last stretch of our journey. ********** Coming back now, I wast drawn away for a moment. While I wrote, the singing appeared to grow louder- as if coming from directly under the windows across the back of my cabin. It grew fainter as I approached; yet by the hair on my chin I surely saw a fine lass bobbing up and down amongst the waves. She was gone in a flash, but even now the song penetrates the cabin-- calling me. Her voice is as an angel, but what she sings is not of any tongue I've ever heard. However, my mind swims with something I wish to put into words: Come now, down to the sea Down you plunge, down to me. Bring no possessions- nothing you'll need Give up the air, the grass and tree, down to the sea- down, down to me. Perhaps I need to get off this damn ship. Yes, tomorrow's light will be good for us all. Captain's log - May 24th, 1783 Oh great and merciful God, save us all! Deliver us from this wretched place and have pity on all poor souls who needlessly stumble upon these accursed shores! Never again shall I strike your name if you save what remains of my crew from the sea hag's grasp. How thou could create such a foul creature of evil is far beyond this mere mortal to understand. I only pray that you have planned a dark fate for this grotesque lady of the water. Her song still echoes in the corners of my mind. Her face haunts me in the darkness, even when I close my eyes. I shall be mad by the ring of dinner's bell. To recount: we lost five good, strong men yesterday. Upon reaching the shores of a strange land not drawn on any of our maps, the seductive song stole our legs as well as our minds- and one by one my crew marched for a nearby cave. Even I felt the ghastly pull, though something held me back, along with some men who are perhaps of stronger will. Still, we could only stand immobile on deck, eyes transfixed upon the mysterious cave by the shore. Never has such a spell wrapped around my heart, an icy grasp in an angel's glove. Suddenly the song was accompanied by a multitude of echoing screams, and for one stupored moment they seemed to harmonise in some etherial chorus. Such was the spell of the siren of the sea: our souls entranced as she feasted on the bones of my crew. How the spell was broken, no one rightly knows. Perhaps she had her fill. Perhaps the devil himself stepped in to drag his wicked daughter back to her watery grave. No matter. What remained of my crew scurried back to the ship and we fled as quickly as possible. For all who sail these seas, beware the siren's song. If you hear it, turn around immediately and retreat. I pray your soul be spared.... @abrakamowse @Myioko

Sometimes with writing, I also don't identify with a certain genre. So I make one up. It's very freeing to know all the rules, but not bound to follow any of them. Who knows maybe the island of 'Kiss' will just pop up out of nowhere. (except one rule : it must be pleasing to society's ear. Perhaps that is the ocean on which we sail. The instrument, our vessel.)

Have you landed yet?

Does not compute ?

@Myioko I will admit to editing *some * stumbles out, but only if I can do it seamlessly. ??

A writer often enjoys writing prompts to inspire and remove blocks, but also to take avenues they wouldnt typically travel, thus building and enriching a writing voice. I wish there were exercises like that for musicians.

Dear gracious and merciful Lord, please let the cute guy stay dead forever and ever, as requested. ?

This is actually well known, but extremely effective. If you can go to sleep repeating the phrase "when I'm dreaming, I remember I am dreaming" then it's very likely to come true. If you wake up in middle of night, go back to sleep repeating the phrase.

Oh, I should mention, a night out drinking, then coming home to a good sativa dominant hybrid, typically results in an OBE for me.

@Hulia yes, but I was only moderately good at it. My mom was pretty good. She taught me alot about improvisation. At some point I went to only playing church hymns, while only being able to read music for the right hand. So my mom taught me how to feel out for the chords on the left hand. That's about all I know, and now I just have fun making stuff up.

I'm composing this music much like how I live life - - intuitively and making it all up as I go. With the paintings in mind, of course. It's a nice yamaha keyboard that my mom got me for birthday, and I can save recordings to a usb drive.

@Myioko do you play? I'm not really good when it comes to playing structured music, but I've started channeling these pieces for the paintings. One thing that helps is that I count many of the finger slips to be "grace notes", which add to harmony and dissonance. I don't really know anything about musical theory besides basic stuff I was taught as a child, and am finally learning to read music properly. I really wish I knew a lot more tricks with the fingers, but I have a feeling I will discover my own. I kind of like it this way

@Myioko Try this one headphones are always best! try zoning out to the video while watching it.

@Consilience @Consilience true, much of great writing is about what's not said, anyway

I am (not). ?

The City in the Sky The city shines like a cluster of green amethyst, a beacon of hope in light of a sordid past. Legends of old speak of how our City was plucked from the fertile green fields far below the clouds, from a land once held in the highest esteem. Only the eldest of the elders remembers the Motherland, and the great calamity which befell it many years ago. They only speak of it when pressed (or occasionally on karaoke night). But life here in the City is great. Sometimes I sit with a few of my friends at the edge of the lower gardens and watch the clouds burn in the crimson sunsets. Here we dangle our feet over the edge, and imagine ourselves flying through them, which would be the only thing to catch us if we fall. I'll admit it sounds a bit reckless, but the invisible barrier would never let us fall, only the streams of water flowing from the city's center. Where they landed, no one knew; but I liked to think they are cleansing the scorched earth below. Perhaps one day we can return. I tell my closest friend what's on my heart: "Sometimes I can see the earth peaking through the clouds below. Do you think there is human life down there?" "Shhh... Go back to the city!" Perhaps they are right. I have everything I need here. But I'll keep searching...

Maybe try a heavy dose of sativa brownies, and a benadryl immediately at bedtime. Hmm I might try that ?

Nothing is greater than anything. (Nothing >anything) which ironically points to equality or equivalence. Lol sorry trying to find distraction from hell week? just rambling really

Nothing >anything ?

Concept?

@Hulia see? its all about connections

@Hulia sorry that I am confusing. Probably comes from constantly confusing myself. ?Here's what I can say... I am INFP. I choose dreaming, I guess. Actually I don't even truly beleive that, but I'm really good at spinning several stories at a time. I'm not balanced, there's definitely a wobble in me, and in that wobble of supposed clarity and confusion, some really cool art has been coming up. And it's all been happening like a whirlwind, starting with the novel writing, then flash fiction and short stories, then the guided journeys, then channelling flash fiction to paintings, then music as well.... It's all done by what I consider channelling. And this I don't really consider to be anything, just some cool way to put it. BTW this all started with the 30 day covid shut down ? (or did it?‍♂️) So my point is, don't listen to me, unless you like my story. Go with how you feel drawn. Just stop and listen to the music. If you like stories, you know where to find us. Also that would be cool if the horses ran through you ? one time, I dreamed I went to my grandparents farm, and I wanted a horse to ride around. A herd of horses came by and I jumped on one. He was purple and I wished for it to turn into a pegasus and so it did. We flew around and landed in the midst of a trump parade. That was a cool dream.