Goodnight Mallory

Posted: February 14, 2017 in Uncategorized

I have never had a kitlet die in my arms like this last Sunday morning, February 12, 2017. At 5:45AM, I was fast asleep in my bed. Brother, who was at the end of my bed, stood straight up and caterwauled like something foreign and dangerous was in the room with us. It was Mallory, whose eyes were dilated as far as they could go, and his breath was hitching horribly. He collapsed on the carpet, struggling mightily to breathe. I leapt out of bed, flipped the lights on and knelt by him to figure out what was wrong. This was not a hairball or the typical “I ate something and now I am going to puke it on the carpet for you” — Mallory could not breathe. I picked him up and tried to Heimlich anything out of his stomach; I wrenched his jaws open and tried manually clearing his airway. When I put him down, he collapsed on his side, tongue lolling out, eyes wide, and I started CPR, pressing his chest to keep blood pumping. I tried to breathe for him, forcing air into his lungs. He didn’t respond; I heard his heartbeat grow faint, then silent. This was over the space of maybe 3 minutes, and I want to remember how it feels to be completely impotent when someone you love dies way too early in your arms. I also want to remind myself that I did everything that I could to save my son. It is the tritest of platitudes, but I fully believe Mallory has gone to a better place.

As I write this, to my right is the executive chair that was Mal-Mal’s perch whenever I wasMallory-Knox-Executive-Chair-真路利.JPGworking and he wasn’t making the rounds of the neighborhood like the little soldier he is. I still am separating the evening wet fud into two bowls, because Brother doesn’t know how to eat without consuming his half and then having to search for the other half of the can after Mallory has eaten his share. I keep hoping that he will just come strolling in and stretch on my chair, keying the leather with his murderous claws, as he was wont to do. I am pretty sure there was a ghost step-step pawing on my chest Sunday night as I fitfully slept and ugly-cried holding Brother.

Whenever I am confronted with death, I am plagued with ghosts. I turn to other times that I have had one foot in the shadow realm and one here on this shitty planet. When I delivered the eulogy for my friend Bela Chris, I said that everyone has to grieve in their own way. I have had many cats before, and it is always impossible to prepare for and go through their loss. I am still processing exactly what to do about Mallory’s life being cut short by what I am almost 100% sure was poison. Local media has reached out to me regarding this as a potential story.

My brother Brian Freer and I put Mallory to rest in the earth not five feet away from where we found him and his brother Mickey — who vanished after only a year — in the Edgemont canyon. I cut a dozen pink flowers from the Biollante rose bush in the Robin Street backyard and spread the petals over him. Mallory is in good company at the foot of the tree where Kanji Cloud is also pushing up daisies, so at least I have that bit of apropos closure.

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Goodnight, Mallory — you are the bestest kitlet, and I’m sure you’re happy to be reunited with Mickey. I’ll miss you something dreadful.

 

Froggacuda's Weblog

A wastebasket is unloved
Unwanted
Unfeeling
Useless
‘Cept for holding items you don’t want anymore.
Like pencil stubs
And old candy
And unhumorous bumper stickers
And Superman Underoos
And bad poetry mistakes
Like this one.

Maybe it isn’t so bad
Because you get to meet many different things
And you get to love and cherish each unique object
Until someone empties you with a flick of their wrist
Only leaving you with a small remnant;
A trail of greasy saliva or
A hardened piece of gum but
Mostly nothing.

And when you get old
And your plastic’s weak
And your wicker is sagging
And your metal is corroded
And your shine is gone
And your color is faded
And you refuse to let go of that one last bit
Of stuff you have held in your confines
For a long, long time
Maybe all of eternity
They’ll throw you into…

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The Morning Sun

Posted: May 24, 2016 in Uncategorized

Before the Stacks of Wax melt, here’s a pair of AFAIK vinyl-only mixes of New Order. Before 2016 takes any more musicians.

New Order On-USound Megamix Part 1:

New Order On-USound Megamix Part 2: 

 

 

Just Like Heaven

Posted: May 14, 2016 in Uncategorized

The Cure has a special place with any well-musicked child of the 80s. Here’s a special slice from the DJ Lurk Stacks of Wax.

Enjoy.

The Greatest Prince

Posted: April 21, 2016 in Uncategorized

I don’t know how else to express my grief and joy regarding the level up of the greatest musician of my generation: Prince.

Here’s some freshly ripped DJ-Only vinyl for the celebration. Megamixes made of Diamonds and Pearls and Raspberry Berets. UPDATE: Added the best Prince mix I ever did hear; DJ Lurk fans can find it on Volume 4, Disc 2, Track 12.

This is for the real Prince fans; his #1 is Summer Rose, without question.

Music is my Project Management

Posted: September 18, 2015 in Uncategorized

I have a vendor / trusted advisor who casually mentioned the context of “rhythm” when it comes to communication. I had an epiphany; this was the word I was looking for to solve problems. The rhythm of comm — either you WILL dance or you won’t — it is your choice. The rhythm of communication is the key to successful business, but you have to be open to all types of music. Slavery Gets Shit Done - T-Shirt Hell

Music is a form of project management. BPM, lyrics, style, tone, flavor, genre, presence — if you are conditioned to rhythm to comprehend urgency, and focused on what to get done, you will move the ball forward. Music is a universal language that gets shit done. Slave to the music, as Grace Jones would advise.

Everyone does this naturally, but it still needs to be said: tune your music towards what you want to get accomplished. Halt your habit of just throwing on your latest favorite and then adjusting to that composition: DJ for yourself and then turn it up; put your headphones on and then get to work. Wave people off — get in your zone and get that shit accomplished. Then come up for air by taking your cans or earplugs off and breathe deep.

Grace-and-Arnold-ConanCommunication has a rhythm — make sure that your musical tastes influences those beats and melodies and lyrics. And then get shit done. Pull out your inspirational, high intensity favorites; put them in a playlist, and then focus on what you need to get done right now. Play it loud and ignore all of those distractions that are hovering around you like no-see-ums. I expect you’ll see immediate results once you get into the groove and then come up for air. Slave yourself to the music.

Governor Schwartzenegger and Ms Jones would agree, goofing around on the set of Conan the Destroyer — one of my favorite flicks — almost 30 years ago. Or, as Snap! would say from the early 90’s: “Rhythm is a Dancer“. Or take the same riff and get current in 2015 with Jeremih – Don’t Tell ‘Em. The upshot is this: make your music work for you; don’t just work for the music.

I am currently “under-employed” and consequently, I am in a state of amusement because I want to be productive. The last time I was in this situation almost seven years ago, I pumped hundreds of poems that I had written into this WordPress blawg because I am a poet. Present tense, I wanted to make the best use of all of this free time, so I spent countless idle hours getting all of my DJ Lurk’s MP3 mixes online, because I am also a DJ. I clearly remember when I dropped poetry as an expression mechanism and graduated to recording sequences of songs because these sonic paintings expressed my headspace much better than writing in spiral-ring notebooks. It’s been a while since I captured the creative expression of my DJ Lurk persona, but it is humbling that I have almost seven straight days of mixes if you play them start-to-finish.

DJLurkLogo

Providing these sounds to the public is a cathartic, selfish action. As a human being that is capable of influencing the world around me, I find it to be of the utmost importance to provide a measurable value: this time, it is DJ Lurk, my army-of-one alter ego that mixes music instead of writing poetry. The technology has caught up to where it is simple to post an MP3 recording that captures a shitload of hard work. I have already spit about how important it is to Press Record and capture your own efforts. This is because you are the product.

Brother-and-Mallory-Battlemat

DJ Lurk’s biggest fans: Brother and Mallory.

There are three types of people: past tense, present tense, and future tense. Everyone can operate within those categories to a certain level of competence, but everyone defaults to their most comfortable worldview. Typically, I am a creature of present tense; however, when I am faced with my own musical selections recorded in the infinitely replicatable format of digital MP3s, they are messages to yourself from the past. No one is a better subject matter expert on this media than I am: what was I thinking? Where is my mind?

It is way too easy to take a shitload of pictures on your iPhone of your children, pets, loved ones, food plates, vistas, and your experiences — it’s now getting worse, turning into videos and Vine loops — and YOU NEVER LOOK AT THEM AGAIN. The social media drive to post unadulterated crap all of the time is horrific. 21st Century humans collect tons of media almost reflexively; it is the art and action of going back through it and framing it with times, dates, tags, and explanations that will make that media worthwhile. Otherwise it is a waste of audience time and QVC will not invite you back as a vendor. You have to manage your own brand.

With my newfound temporary freedom, I have looked back on my output of product, and I am thrilled to build out the DJ Lurk side of this WordPress blawg with all these recorded dreams of being a professional DJ — DJ Lurk, if you will. This is adding hours of product — original content, if you will — to the Virtual Lilypad, and the effort reinforces that elusive immortality sought by the Froggacuda.

At the top of the page, roll over the DJ Lurk item, and explore the madness and mayhem.