New album 'Songs For The End Of The World' coming out May 1 23 (assuming the world doesnt end before then) Preorder it on spotify here! distrokid.com/hyperfollow/yokalli/songs-for-the-end-of-the-world
The spotify version is a whole lot cleaner, if you want to listen to it over there :) open.spotify.com/track/3kwX0srb1540bqJ9UYSRLd?si=dfd47739c7494ff8
"Conscription is slavery, and I don't think that any people or nation has a right to save itself at the price of slavery for anyone, no matter what name it is called. We have had the draft for twenty years now; I think this is shameful. If a country can't save itself through the volunteer service of its own free people, then I say : Let the damned thing go down the drain!" Robert Heinlein.
Stripped of his funds at the blackjack tables, he shambles toward the exit with nothing to look forward to but the hope of some sort of new life in L.A. or a gun to his head. Just short of the door he finds deep in his pocket a last silver dollar. Why not blow it all on a dollar slot machine, a cartwheel Chief with a two-thousand-dollar payoff? If you’re gonna go out, go out like a champ. Margaret Annie Jessie, the progeny of a full-blooded Cherokee woman and a bindlestiff of mixed European heritage just passing through, comes bombing out of Tucson at the age of 23, “the determined product of Miss Clairol and Berlitz,” looking for men with money in Vegas. The paths of this irresistible “Maggie” -- long legs, large hips, flat belly, waist that works in any style from dirndl to disco-slacks, lotsa blonde hair, no breasts (“forget the cans, baby, there’s other, more important action”), those incredible blue eyes -- and Kostner will cross irrevocably when he pulls the handle on the one-armed bandit.
Either someone is trying to communicate with Roger Charna through electric signs and mechanical appliances, or he’s going insane. Odds are not good. Surgeons labored over Charna for a long time after the accident, but he came out of it with a collapsible metal finger on his left hand, a right eye with sensors to pick up and process data from both the infrared and ultraviolet ends of the spectrum, and a spiral of neon tubing that often glows in his chest. Once he’s discharged from the hospital and takes a job at a Times Square bookstore he starts perceiving odd messages, calling him by name from a 7-Up sign, overhead fluorescent lights, and movie marquees. Almost as distracting, his new finger periodically breaks into tiny renditions of Italian opera and Kurt Weill. Why are all these city signs and light fixtures telling Roger “I’m in love with you?"
A classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy serves as the fairly thin lunch meat between more substantial slices of multi-grain bread. Although the prologue doesn’t seem essential to me either. There, the narrator relates the deaths of four real persons, all apparently victims of cruel chance and only one of which is instantly familiar (she being Marilyn Monroe; I think the only other place I’ve heard of “Dick Bong, Ace of Aces,” was in another Ellison story, “Repent, Harlequin”). The notion of a fateful concatenation of chance occurrences that results in either needless death or incredible good fortune is a fascinating and frightening one, but the real-life examples here are somewhat weak for the purpose, not explored in great depth, and I’m not sure they or the point they illustrate adds all that much to Griffin’s story. The ending is a good, strong right to the jaw, though. In structure, the plot reminds me a little of Bierce’s “Incident at Owl Creek Bridge.”
Started to write a story about an interracial couple married 30 years on a nighttime road trip. Both had racist feelings toward the other's race. They confessed their first fears when they decided to have sex. He: his dick was too small. Her, that her nipples were black.
Sat in his booth at the back of the bar, wishing they're hurry up with his Jack and Coke. He was going to marry his lifelong friend's daughter next week. She had graduated college, bachelor's degree in agriculture. Planned on going into horse husbandry. 23-years-old. Very Trad. Wore plain shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots. She was the one who proposed. "You don't have any goddamned kids. What's up with that? Gonna die in a damned home with no family and they're gonna just cut ya loose when they feel like it! C'mon, let's go get married and we'll fix that shit!" He's 49. As the years went by he was becoming the third-wheel to the yearly event, the gathering he and his friends held every year since they got home from the war. He had had no wife, no kids, when everyone else did. They were out getting busy living, while he was getting busy doing nothing. South Dakota was going to a damn fine place to grow old. It was a lot to swallow and all he needed to do that was a Jack and Coke.
I hate Alan Alda. Love Hawkeye Pierce. Lots of characters left M.A.S.H., but if Hawkeye left, I think they would have have cancel the show. Donald Sutherland was too high-dollar an actor then to come back to playing the role he originated on-screen, on a the much smaller TV screen. IMO he was to M.A.S.H, what Luke Skywalker was to Star Wars. Except for Rogue One, all the Star Wars shows that didn't have Luke show up at some point just had a way of going pear-shaped. That would happen with M.A.S.H. Hawkeye was really the only indispensable character, since I believe it was his story that was being told.
Imagine you wake up in a field somewhere in the Eastern Sierra, not sure where El Camino Sierra is. Rough ground and it's a moonless night, so you feel like you're in space. But each little point of light in the sky gives the contrast that shadow people need, and the area you're in is known as one of the most haunted in North America. All those shadow people could just drag you to hell with them and knowing that you feel worse than someone who's about to be executed, because at least that will have a moment and be over, but damnation is forever. You reach into you pocket and pull out your phone, but you have no bars, but it's fully-charged and you open your VLC app and play this song loud as you can. This area has never heard human music and you use it like a tent against all the darkness and stay there until the sun comes up. This is what this song can do for you.
