radio_dream

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Sat, 13 Mar 2021 11:33:00 -0800

Like villains in 70s cop dramas…an actor like Richard Lynch greatly appealed to him…a graduate of the actors studio, Lynch became known for portraying villains in film and television…his distinct scarred appearance made him a popular foe. How that appearance greatly appealed to D. Lynch had been fucked up LSD and set himself up on fire burning seventy percent of his body. He had to spend a year in year recovery. It was then he go religion and went to the Actor Studio and HB Studio. He was the foe of the Seven-Ups, a squad of plainclothes officers who use dirty, unorthodox tactics to snare criminals.

D. Liked director/producer Phillip D’Antoni who was responsible fort the memorable car chase sequences in Bullitt, French Connection and the Seven-Ups…

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Sat, 13 Mar 2021 10:13:00 -0800

“no consumers have been hit by this,” Zack reassured the listeners…

He didn’t want to create a panic. If attack was imminent, it would send the populace into a frenzy resulting in chaos and pandemonium which was the last thing he wanted. No, he wanted to instill a lingering fear. One that could be manipulated over years, possibly decades. Now that the Arab terrorist threat had subsided, a new enemy was needed. Zack hoped that fear could be created by cyber terrorists. A group completely undefined…absent of ideology…nation status…physical identity…the perfect enemy…it could be summoned out of the wind…an ever present enemy yet never present…a foe completely of the imagination…

-frequency-

He chose the song because of its strong identity with the moon. The group like clumsiness of the lyric irked him a bit but the strong identification of the group with a secret piece of land and their strong bond with greatly appealed to him…

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Thu, 7 Jan 2021 23:01:00 -0800

My brother is in the bathroom making noises. He won’t be out in any time soon. He’s lost it…when he gets high he loses it….,when he’s not high, he lies in bed depressed. I didn’t judge him least not much. When he gets high he likes to talk. And touch. And become overly sensitive. Who am I to judge?…I live most of my life in fantasy. It’s grander there. A world of magic….mystery…sensitivity. When it wasn’t on the dark side with its irritability….self doubt…cruelty…I am in love with the aesthetic. Broke, with nothing do I escape into breath and shallow devotion to zen. In the woods I tell myself I am getting closer to nature….detached, things become noticeable….like the soft rustle of the wind or the cry of a bird. The robust belch of a passing locomotive becomes a huge sonic event. Like jets soaring above. The sound of its engine begins in D. But ends in E.

-cut-

In the womb of now I dissolve into cool

Splashing words real cut images deconstructed into montage

from found objects discarded

-cut-

Love minus zero...at the window with a broken wing...songs in silohuette....shadows of memory cast their nostalgic perfume..the fragrance takes me back to the Dharma palace…with its view of light in the morning…the sun witnessed from every conceivable angle through glass sectioned off like a Kandinsky painting…train rides with its history of mad insane engineers...yodeling hobos...classy pullman porters...cowboys and indians...the Lone Ranger and Tonto...swapping blues licks with the boys...backdoor man..., the good times that make one say wow...sun licks the qua...time to write yourself into the movie...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Sun, 18 Oct 2020 05:40:00 -0700

Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It writes biographies, histories, and criticism. The foregoing generation beheld nature and God and nature face to face; we through their eyes. Why should we not also enjoy an original relation to the universe? Why should we not have a poetry and philosophy of insight and not of tradition, and a religion by revelation to us, and not the history of theirs? Embosomed for a season in nature, whose floods of life stream around and through us, and invites us by the powers they supply, to action action proportioned to nature, why should we grope among the dry bones of the past, or put the living generation into masquerade out of its failed wardrobe? The sun shines to-day also. There is more wool and flux in the fields. There are new lands, new men, new thoughts. Let us demand our own works and laws and worship.(emerson)

Holy is the Qua moment. Tai Chi kid submerged into the Greeley woods landscape. The sun licks his face. It's warmth an orgiastic feeling, sexual in nature. He stills into his breath. The sound of the forest becomes vibrant. Everything dynamic, alive...

Naked In The Light...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Tue, 13 Oct 2020 09:56:00 -0700

Then it was cooler, and out across the water the sunset was usually beautiful. Men would be smoking their last cigarettes before dark or texting thoughts or attempting to secure their tents with a piece of driftwood. The sounds of the battle were muted at night and the distant crackling of small-arms fire, the remote echoes of the artillery seemed detached from them. It was a confusing period, and most of them were pleased when they were assigned to them.

But Tyler Sid was not. He had been hoping against his better judgement that recon would be given the eight replacements they needed, and to his disgust they had been assigned only four. (Mailer Naked and the Dead)...

The generals did not understand the battle. They were far from the conflict lost in their abstraction of what warfare was.

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Mon, 12 Oct 2020 12:38:00 -0700

The zekelon acts as a bridge to higher consciousness...it is meant to counter act The Spectacle...and to awaken authentic desires, creating feelings of life and adventure and the liberation of everyday life..Tne Radio Dream is a Situationist construct, negating the alienation of life...exploring the shadow, coming to peace with it, and submerging the spirit into nature is its primary end...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Sun, 11 Oct 2020 11:20:00 -0700

The zekelon is a garden of experience. It's plants are grown from the seeds of image, word, sound...planted by the members of the Ruby Kite, proponents of The Radio Dream. It is reached by imagination, fueled by the imagination, exists in the imagination. As the children of Lorca and Hendrix, The Radio Dream seeks to demolish the demonic rule of Zack Smiter who has seized the imagination of the nation by enclosing it a glass dome, doping on a narcotic of cheap culture.

The tracks

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Sun, 27 Sep 2020 05:17:00 -0700

the tracks led away from here to somewhere anywhere a woman would be inviting understanding you touching you the way you wanted to be touched. Ida May was that woman for Tyler. He would come in from the Badlands...broken, tired, crazy...Ida never asked for an explanation....whatever he wanted to get into Ida was game for. Tyler would hop the freight letting the tracks direct him on his escape. He could forget his identity in the assumed one he had adopted to ride the train. the train took him into the light. Into the landscape.

On going fantasy....

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Mon, 14 Sep 2020 07:53:00 -0700

The idea had been to deconstruct the narrative in any manner possible. Any material could be used. In this instance Junky Fredo used branches spitted out from the trees after becoming sick from an awful hurricane...creating the sculptures Fredo to draw the viewers consciousness to the impermenance of existence. Under the conditions that Zack Smiter had imposed, there was no death, everyone lived in on going fantasy....

Defamiliarize

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Mon, 16 Mar 2020 08:58:00 -0700

The Radio Dream aimed to defamiliarize and restructure the experience of the present...what interested Tyler Sid was the here and now the historical U.S.A., the railroad tracks, the unbridled sweeping landscape, the intensity of the continental light. The revolutionary aspect of the Radio Dream was to deconstruct the proliferating stereotypes of a media culture that penetrated every zone of our existence.

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Thu, 17 May 2018 21:29:00 -0700

time light shadow...like Francois Villon silently observing....deconstructing seen imagery to create narrative...spliced together from tape, sound, graphic...time to write yourself into the movie...the movie is yours...imagination is the only constraint...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Fri, 1 Dec 2017 20:12:00 -0800

it was about vision...it was about unity...it was about the flow...nebulous, sinewy, oozing through the cement of the hierarchal confines of society...it was natural, porous, timeless...this was the radio dream...handed down from the ancestors 12 century African drums...drawing upon the roots, grounded in the historical membrane of synapsed existence...the zeelon was a jungan expression of group identity...

By its very nature the zekelon was decntralized...there was no over riding authority...every member had a voice and each voice was valued as important...it meant the death of fiat currency...the fraudulent economic system devised by the bankers to perpetuate their power...words flowing...the power of symbolism...the end of war...the end of alienation...there are no gatekeepers in the radio dream...there is no one deciding what is right or wrong...it's a group consensus that comes into existence from the zeitgeist of the group...

it came in frequencies....there was no static nature to its being...it was poetry in full flight......based on the aesthetic, it was beyond the shallow nature of madison avenue projected commercial image....it was back to the earth...it was a return to the sun...it was erotic union between man and women......the power dynamic of capitalist society was done...it was a true society of equality....

the radio dream drew its art from a multitude of sources...blues music...railroad tracks...vistas...mountains...oceans...the smell of flowers in May...beautiful spring sunshine...the voice lifted in harmony...the multtude of sound...beyond cynicism...beat poetry...the strength of the Wobblies.......from sea to shining sea...the true dream of America...freed from its militaristic straighjacked fostered upon it by corrupt elites only concerned with their well being...

Tyler Sid had never lost the vision...it formed the very essence of his being...its what gave him strength to endure the decades of alienation and pain to exist in this mode of being...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Tue, 10 Oct 2017 14:42:00 -0700

In the sleepy suburban Town of Nowhere...Tyler hung out in TJ Hooker drag....the dope craze had left the city and wormed it's way into comfortable white America....

Tv image...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Fri, 7 Jul 2017 20:46:00 -0700

D. Knew the way of the path...the town's residents were too absorbed in the agora to know of the the secret paths that ran along side of them......

-radio dream-

Tyler Sid adopted the identiy of a jounalist...this gave him the freedom to travel the world under the guise fo professionalism...,it let him explore different venues of being...his story today was as a broadcast jourmaist...he was covering the storhof the Chappaqua Farmer's Market, a local food Market that met on Saturdays in the affuent community of the Qua...under the Raygun, the economy became finacialized, where busines beame about money making money no longer interested in producing goods and services that people needed...in this dysptpian world, people were no longer needed...governments dodn

Taxpayer, it could simply just print money....with full control of the meda Zack Smither cotnrolled tthe images that the population could see...for instance, they were denied the full horror of the wars the United Statesd was engaged in...in this world, America was decent brnging democracy and justice to the world, never mind the war crimes itself was egaed in...the Radio Dream hoped to deconstruct this false notion of being...

-cut-

Giant texted him from outside. D. Walked out int the night..there was a soft rain that melted against D's skin...it was a nice sensatin in the summer's night...for a moment, D. Felt lfike a.kids again when summer relt like an endless time of being...

"How's it going Giant?" D. Asked.

"Not too bad," Giant replied, and then breaking into a laugh,"as long as I don't tink about my cancer."

D. And Giant were the last relics left ih the American abyss called The Qua.....

We Are Inoculated

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Thu, 29 Jun 2017 01:27:00 -0700

-radio dream-

We are inocluated from birth not to look at the vision that resides in our backyard...simple vision not part of the american style...they lay a John Wayne movie on us from the git go...at the age of five we're dreaming of being tough cowboys taking what ever we want destroying who ever in our path...the indigenous folks were'nt here...Columbus discovered the land...and they didn't call themselves Indians...a misnomer as Columbus was trying to find a way to India...it's no big deal people say about the football team calling themselves the Redskins...it's just a nickname...a simple mascot...and that underscores the arrogance right there...the lack of sensitivity...or awareness of others...my vision formed when I was 15 and I saw the caste system laid out i the cafetria...and that vision although under going many permutations still stays in tact...you can see it in the healthcare system....health put before the dictates of profit...and lies...because the free market is not allocating the resources in the most efficient manner...rather its diverting them into administration costs which add neither efficiency or rationality to the distribution of resources...a single payer system would do away with all that waste and use the collective bargaining power of the group to negotiate for cheaper prices...that is but one topic on my agenda my listners...the list is long...when will you take up my sweet dear listeners?...the waste spent on the pentagon...there is no one threatening you?...why do you let your masters frighten you?...no one is coming to take what you have...it's a big time scam to make a few rich....but I guess we'll wait till everything collapses...then their won't be any choice but to act...

-d-

The light never ceased to be real...only his relationship to it changed....whether he was fresh, eagere burning with curiosity to learn, absorbe, be or faded into tired jaded indifference bones infused with the disease of so what...the lght remained the same...and when it was when D. Centered his mind on this point of view he was returned to his self....a self that learned, grew, absorbed...the years had turned into decades and in those decades there was voluminous notes added with images and video.....that could not be taken away....it was there...and now he could trim away the waste...the self indulgence...the arrogance...the false posture of hereoism...the very act of creativity is a revolutinary act...to be active not passive was the true gesture of resistance...to learn to tell a true tale...everythng else was fashion...momentary style...and that passes very quickly...and it was then he remembered it was about the word...not the video...the web page...those were big elements and they were important but they were not the thing....because he had been feelng down...it seemed like everyone else was younger, sharper more sikilled and it left a deep empty feeling in him...he had stopped drinking so he had no escape from it...it was there, to exist with it...but then he remembered, it wasn't about those things...it was about the word and the vision...and the learning it took to acquire those things....and the depression lifted...it didn't matter then if it was successful or not...he had a tale to tell...a particular tale to that....and the light greeted him warmly and lovingly and it was then he was not alone or that years had been wasted..

-tyler sid-

Tyler woke up. Ida May was curled up into a deep sleep. As he got dressed he was careful not to wake her. She needed the sleep. They had made mad frantic love. Her hunger was riveting. He imagined she must have felt the same. Being under cover there were long periods of being alone and devoid of natural contact. The vigors of the resistance required this. To blow your cover meant certain death. The Radio Dream was the last hold out from Zack Smiter's image virus. Zack had been immensely successful infusing the population with his image dream...it had seeped and soaked into everey pore of the body politic...they believed the greenhouse they lived in was the natural world...they had no clue they lived in an artificial simulated reality....The Radio Dream was the last hold out...being shape shifters Zack could not corner them...they were too porous for his reality...but the years had taken their toll...manhy members of The Radio Dream had been rubbed out...anything could give you away....and once detected that was it....but Tyler Sid, Zote Zeebe, and Ida May had held on...Zote in his dharma palace, mastering the Zekelon, producing the sound image which Tyler hoped one day to feed into Zack Smiter's image distribution pipes and feed the population with the sound which would libereate them their opiated dream sleep...the performances in the abandoned missile silos still carried on, even more poignant and powerful than ever...years at the trade had sharpened the boys craft...Zote manipulated the zekelon to magical levels of awareness that they had never dreamed of...it was this expressiion which sustained...The Radio Dream lived on strong and powerful....the message time to write yoiurself into the movie as real as ever...

-cut-

I call you to dream the radio dream...

Sounds

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Wed, 28 Jun 2017 21:09:00 -0700

I...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Wed, 28 Jun 2017 21:08:00 -0700

S

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Wed, 28 Jun 2017 21:07:00 -0700

Outlaws By Trade

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Tue, 3 May 2016 09:21:00 -0700

The Radio dream were outlaws by trade. Defying societies convention they sat around fires getting fucked up telling crazy stories.

Digital Packets....

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Thu, 28 Apr 2016 07:57:00 -0700

The radio dream is a nostalgic dream before the digital revolution...it's about a reverence for the landscape...past the noise of the agora...

Forgotten Dreams..

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Thu, 3 Mar 2016 16:36:00 -0800

It was DM's birthday...D. came in from the outside whee he had been smoking a cigarette with Giant. He thought back to almost 25 years ago when he had been a cub reporter covering the time time LT was a judge at a wet t shirt concert. Now he was drunk going back to eat the free chicken wings that the bar gave DM for his birthday. You got one for every year you had been alive up to 50. DM was 51 so there were a lot of wings to go around. Only two years ago he had been there with S. and her two children at the beginning of their relationship. Now he hadn't talked to her in a half a year. He had grown tired of her lying to him and he had cut it off. He looked up and noticed the beautiful winter light bisect the forgotten bar.

A dramatic revelatory moment...

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Wed, 17 Feb 2016 16:27:00 -0800

The camera is trained on an overcast sky...with a sense of magic the clouds part....a plane swoops down and from it emerges Zack Smiter...dressed in uniform...the camera pans back the party faithful are in rapt applause...

Meta Data

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Fri, 8 Jan 2016 09:32:00 -0800

“Everyone should have the ability to decide what types of metadata they leave behind,” said Tyler Sid to Zote Zeebe.

Im still walking

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Sun, 27 Dec 2015 17:44:00 -0800

I'm still walking so surely I can dance...slight rain on an usual warm December night...image, sliced in the night...the year ends in a nano second... But the new year begins stronger than last year...

-cut-

It was time to write himself into the movie Tyler entered the movie set in costume drag superhero style...

spectator

noreply@blogger.com (Zote63) — Sun, 15 Feb 2015 06:31:00 -0800

every member of the audience makes his or own film from what is perceived on the screen, so each reader makes his or her own book, both mentally and emotionally.