QTN's Whirly Winter Wordscape

Hoppy now ears to you all over the turning whirldsphere.
We are perched at the end of an era, the end of an error or perhaps even the ear of Ananda. Many fine things are beginning now too. Long time no send update. Thanks for all the encouragings to keep 'em coming. 2008 was a busy yahhhhhhh of a year with plenty of travel and zoooom and it is looking to be that way again. After a brief wordy wonderwander, there are four newsy items:

A. A winter CD deal with an added treat.
B. New wordless music webpage
C. QTN and Robert Vignaud deal with their inner Tube...

Indeed it is quite the New Ear to Real Eyes and changlings everywhere are off to a swimming start especially in low-lying areas around the Pacific Northwet after mudslides, avalanches. underwater highways, snow before the first day of winter that wouldn't go away, rain that wouldn't stop, more than our usual quota of freezing fog and too many other exciting events.

Winter is a good time to begin again and, since 2009 is the last year of the Uh-Oh Decade, we're going to need a new name for the next ten years, something more eloquent than "The Teens'. Be the first to coin a new name, send it to me and I'll post it in a future newsletter. I plan to be a better corn forest spondent in 09 than I was last year. Everything got away in the mad dash across the dotted lines dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot... 

We arrived into an Earth Ox year January 26 and that sounds like a good urge to exercise personal and communal fortitude and hard work to create the great renewable a-bun-dance. Do we ever have work cut out for us all this next year or what? And besides being an Ox year, with all the job layoffs, is it also the Year of the Ax? Stay tuned, but let's think in terms of possibility instead of dread. A good time to not buy the fearmind or anything superfluously.

Here's a hearty toast to future projects burgeoning and coming into form. Another toast to electrically crisped slices of bread with a blackberry jam session. Here's to being bread in the bone and to being well bred(ed). It's the yeast I could do really. I am already full up this winter with what I hope to accomplish before the mad year descends again so no more loafing here either.

Time for blips:

A • Been waiting for the perfect time to order CDs from me? All signs say it's now. I'm ringing in the new by moving out the old in order to come up with $$ to finish two new recordings. Here's the deal: order Hearthearthearth, Parakeetfishhead and Lubricating the Species CDs and get all three for $36 postage included. Plus, I'll send a free, signed bonus disc of 4 unreleased QTN recordings from the archives with every three for two order. Order online at QTNRG.org using Paypal, my website has been configured to reflect the winter deal. Bite-sized mantras can still be ordered through the website too and have their own domain now at www.bitesizedmantras.com. It's bare bones for now, but we hope to make this one fun soon.

B • A new page for QTNstrumentals has been hatched online for those of you who have enjoyed the wordless guitar music I play and for those who are curious what it's like to not deal with all those pesky lyrics and meanings. Visit www.myspace.com/QTNstrumentals and have a listen. Say howdy there if your a spacer or put in a friend request too. The other page is www.myspace.com/brianQTN. "Food" is still in the top 300 of 3000 songs on Neil Young's 'Living with War' protest song page at neilyoung.com/lwwtoday/lwwsongspage.html. Thanks to all of you still clicking on it to keep it going up the chart. At one point it was in the top 30. I hear you can even see the "Food" link briefly in the CSNY movie about the "Living with War" tour of 2007. 

C • We've been Tubed! A new video has been posted from last Father's Day at Jovita's in Austin. The ever-amazing and multi-faceted bassist extrordinaire Robert Vignaud has posted us performing "Standing People Trees" and I hear there may be a couple more videos to come. Copy and paste this in your browser: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIQPyNLyw0E and watch and listen. Leave a comment if you're an inner youtube-r. Say 'Yes i yam."

Thanks for all the feedback, personal emails and encouraging hilarity.
There sure are a lot of people in me. Thanks for being one of them.
Your corn forest spondent,
bq

Beards sing songs!

Emerge Urgency Oh Nine

Now that present time is teeter-tottering on the brink of the urge to emerge from a doddering old gaping sar-chasm embracing the wandering why, we are leaning into sharpnesses of frugality, becoming becalming centrifugality holding together the centre of a widening entropy gyre, flying apart concentrically at the seems-to-be.

Shards of sparkling carnival-glass-thought refract light and refocus caramelizedarkest night into a fractalfriction clarity in expansive contractivity; filling and emptying like a breathing Balkan goat bladder bleating a slightly mazurka’d tsardas.

And it isn’t all lost, so what’s found is the sound of one unlimited heart smiling in tandem with other unrestrained smiling hearts and melding into a chorus of silence and holding space, expansive in being and using imagination to image-a-nation/world transitioning through problems created by the mind of previous times, outside any limitation box and turning those problems with a holographic nuanced eyemindheart (a mirtrhful mindful heartily aware of limitless potential coming now through the dreaming door long lost tho available at every given moment).

Yes. To know.

And doesn’t the adept abruptly adapt, then interrupt a corrupt inept process adrift in shiftless error-correction creating an updraft of uplifting laughter after its aggregate cohesion collapses?

In the newness of a whirl becoming, we can learn to discern what is significant on beyond preconceived notions and postprocedural analysis-paralysis. We can release instinctual habitual rituals and re-turn turn turn again to those thrilling days of Evermore where wayward thoughts and pilgrim wanderings of nomadosophy point the closest way to egress, and we can evolve and proceed to our most fervent analogous whole.

With just a turning of the cards, history unfolds another infinite number of infant potential futures and repasts, faster than the speed of ahhhh and the whoa of whew, where ideas spill unnegated, ever the spark of the next subsequent Is –– and unrehearsed, barely pronounced (tho more than a likely guess), tiny like a windchime and oftener than not.

GINSLE MTUMBE

GINSLE MTUMBE

was an embrace long sought after by certain cleverly manipulative and sometimes blessed auto regurgitator salesmen from nearby Pokeena. You could hear a waistline snigger wretchedly with oakmeal before anybody got to work by 9:30 in the monday, monday, but after that hoo boy! even the electric pencil shavings were pretty loud.

By quitting time, the wobbly salesmen loaded serenely but miserably on a platform heel-eeummm-gummm unnnnloader desperately searching for the vaguest silhouette of something very very bright.

Every year around Talking Spumoni Day, the salesmen would all spew out dogma and eventually wish each other GINSLE MTUMBE right down to their forebears. And every year, three lucky effrimzimblitzds (as they were called) were chosen by Random Sample to join the ranks of discarded gumboots. Lucky for them, they never knew what hit ‘em. But everybody wondered...

Eric Beeslow and Penkie-Wenkie-Enkie were having lunch at Entrail’s House of Lubricant when the topic turned to Talking Spumoni Day and the Random Sample. Let’s listen in:

“You know Penkie-Wenkie-Enkie, somebody’s bound to be chosen and it sure feels like it’s gonna be me this year, sure as my name is Eric Beeslow. Wouldja pass me the Chunky Spread©?”
“Oh, be quiet Eric,” Penkie-Wenkie-enkied, “Every year we have this same conversation. You’d think by now either you would have been chosen or at least nominated. How many times do you wanna die anyway?”

A commotion in the restaurant broke off any more conversation. Three agitated embroiderers were trying to sew some green beans together and then a group of Oriental men over in the corner stood on their chairs and bowed repeatedly to each other exclaiming “Thank You” “Thank You” over and over and over. The Maitre ‘D’ spontaneously combusted in front of everybody and left behind only a tiny heap of smouldering blue ashes when all a suddnely, all the food asploded into kisses and one man, a Mister Hobarth Empeñada I believe, began crying real tears when his grapefruit wouldn’t shut up.