SONG OF THE DAY: Maximum Stimulation (kudzu'd)

The Mennonite grocery store was closed when I came home from the funky quonset thing last weekend, so I couldn’t get more halal turkey bologna. That entire sentence is real and a bezel of the beautiful life I have somehow been blessed with. Allahu akbar (for real).
Also weirdly enough, the frogs by the mucky murkland down the road have seemingly been building a mud statue of Jimmy Castor. I would play this song slowed down to them a lot when they were still tadpoles, in their ectoplasmic incubatory stage, so it makes sense. Still though, it's weird to see a little mud Jimmy Castor, like 2 inches tall, down there. And I just know one of the redneck kids on 4-wheelers is gonna run over it out of basic spite for the artful life. But so far they haven't. Maybe there's hope...

0VR PR1M0RD14L D3S1R3...

our primordial desire 
to walk our way to better 
tomorrows cannot be damned 

SONG OF THE DAY: What's His Name

A lot of my favorite songs from throughout music history have a sound to them reminiscent of the rhythmic combination of cicadas/peepers/frogs/insects/forest creatures making noise in the woods. It’s such a primordial rhythm, and such a symphony I got no idea what actual creatures it is making that type of sound, because likely it ain’t a single animal but a whole slew of them working in tandem. I feel bummed when dogs don’t like me, because it suggests to me I’m not doing something in life. But also when that forest symphony is popping off, and I’m moving through it (or by it, which is far more common for our unnatural human asses), whenever it stops suddenly instead of the normal build up then dramatic stop before starting back up slowly, I feel like I fucked up the rhythm. Then again, that’s a sign of needing to think more naturally, and learn how to walk within that rhythm, so that I blend it and be a part of it instead of disrupting it until it’s sure it’s not in immediate danger. And that’s also fucked up to think that I might be a danger to a natural rhythm, but that’s the reality of how we’ve separated ourselves with our perceived dominion over the Earth, whether we do it out of organized religion or stainless steel sciences. Gotta do better, by not doing so damned much.

SONG OF THE DAY: Shady Blues

Been writing the same intro to a new zine over and over and never quite getting it to feel right. Been slogging through the fog mostly, and it never quite does feel right, but thus far I’ve gotten through the daze. Been maintaining some daily practices, and been letting a few others fall to the wayside temporarily. Been trying to envision the future I want while also tending to a present I don’t feel completely immersed in all the time. Got the mud brain, which can be a negative if you’re trying to maintain industrialized mindframe schedules, so I’ve gotta come to terms with that. But a mud brain is a blessing as well, if you use it right, because it puts you closer to the primordial essence of all things, human and other wise. So that’s what I’m trying to do, shifting the stacks of oppressive stuff around, and finding reason to set fire to enough of it that I got more room to breathe and am able to dust off cobwebs that’s been hiding out for a long minute. It’s that internal jihad of positive and negative at atomic level, that manifest into physical jihad between motion and stagnancy.

SONG OF THE DAY: West Coast for Suuure (Sweatson Klank Remix)

The gods of funk are far more disparate than we give them credit for, having come from the coastal regions around the Earth, moving along tributary migration paths (sometimes voluntarily, often times against their own consent) to locations in parts unknown. Yet the gods always seem to push their greatest prophets back from these nether regions towards the warm weather coasts again. The salt water is both the primordial breeding ground for the gods of funk, and where the necessary salt air is best for fermenting into the thickest sermons of funk best exemplifying the gods of funk's prophecy - that the thickness of the music is too much for brain, and in fact beyond the brain's ability to even deduce how to recreate in an analytical way, and in fact moves your heart, but even deeper still, pops your gut congresses with butterfly goodness, and gets your ass to shake against all better thinking (by brain). It is a beautiful thing, and we should all light a stick of incense and lay down some chunks of quartz somewhere in the house in honor of these great ancient gods of funk who continue to make our lives so god fuckin' blessed.

C3L3BR4T3 S1MPL1C1TY...

celebrate simplicity, 
embrace the traditions from 
before “modern tradition” 

TH3 H0P3FVLN3SS 0F 4 BLV3...

the hopefulness of a blue 
sky, reflecting the ocean’s 
primordial traditions 

TH3 0LD W4YS R0M4NT1C1Z3D...

the old ways romanticized 
by some were the destruction 
of older ways for others 

SONG OF THE DAY: Straight Out The Swamp

Another Boogie Brown banger from his Blue Globe Beats bandcamp, but about three releases back, because my "song of the day" process is a slow burner that even the most high quality vibes of songs don't get on the list until after a month or two, and then it takes me a month to get around to writing about it. I don't respect immediate reactionary newness philosophy... that contributes to our own downfall. Take your time and enjoy shit. But also recognize the fact there's people out here doing amazing shit on a pretty regular basis that you might be overlooking entirely because you're too caught up in the new shit purposely paraded past your gaze.

"TR4D1T10N4L" W4YS S0M3T1M3S...

“traditional” ways sometimes 
means post-industrial phase 
(older, simpler ways exist) 

PR1M0RD14L B4PT1SMS...

primordial baptisms 
too expensive for those who 
could use that recharge the most 

M0R4L1TY FLVCTV4T3S...

morality fluctuates 
over course of history… 
sacred texts re-examined 

MY B0DY'S JVST 4 V3SS3L...

my body’s just a vessel 
carrying stardust essence 
around, ’til death do we part 

P33P1NG TH3 3LD3R KN0WL3DG3...

peeping the elder knowledge 
dropped by primordial frogs 
from the muck at humane edge 

R41NB0W 1N TH3 01LY MVCK...

 

rainbow in the oily muck - 
sign of inevitable 
primordial state return 

PR1M0RD14L TR4D1T10N...

primordial tradition

of million step pilgrimage

to realize evolution

JJ Krupert Jan 2018 number eight "pride"

I got no pride left, fuck off as much as I can because fucking off makes the HARD PAUSE of regular life not feel so hard. Fucking Off > Hard Pause but neither is truly living. Should be getting swoke (woke+swole) doing 69 lb kettle bell swings buck naked in a creek in the woods, stacking the quartz that got pushed up by frozen earth into new formations of cryptic currents see, settling into full-on Futura Kaczynski mode. Raven of 1000 aliases morphed into Raven of a thousand feathers, and each feather is a part of the whole, to help circumnavigate this existence. Futura Kaczynski mode is about a hopeful future closer to primordial origins. There’s no pride in that – pride is a vanity which confuses the heart and causes many of us to get caught up in consumerism and the devil identity politics woven deeply into capital’s copper tendrils choking the fuck out of all us. If you’ve ever seen the Lower Depths by Kurosawa, there’s a part where all the flophouse drunks are gambling and singing some insane song, and the insane actors from 1950s Japan playing the insane characters are doing some insane things all at once, except nothing insane about it at all… made perfect aural sense. That’s Futura Kaczynski style.

Of course this post ends up having nothing to do with Kendrick Lamar. That’s original Raven style – never write about what you’re writing about. Damn.

Natsu Basho 2017 Honour Tanka Day 7: MITAKEUMI (3-4)

perhaps Japan’s top 

two native sumo square off 

inside a circle 

Kisenosato well-known 

as brand new yokozuna 

Mitakeumi’s 

much-loved, always referred to 

as “up and coming” 

these are the native heroes 

of xenophobic culture 

before sumo bout, 

kensho banners of sponsors 

parade around ring 

before bout between these two, 

sixty-one banners marched round 

two undefeated 

Mongol yokozuna sit 

atop leaderboard 

nationalist pride worldwide 

still spreads like cultural mold 

Kisenosato 

and young Mitakeumi 

faced off with much hype 

two Japanese sanyaku 

battling to carry more hope 

a spirited fight 

ensued, two large men tussling 

for control (of hope) 

in the beginning, no one 

gained clear advantage (of hype) 

Mitakeumi 

the young sensation held his 

own against the king 

the Village of Rare Force won 

though, backing out the upstart 

Mitakeumi’s 

day may come, but not today; 

still he’s well-sponsored 

commodifying our hopes 

and selling us detergent 

traditions become 

avenues to our wallets; 

Mishima was right 

“revolutionary new” 

things always on horizon 

the young sensation 

known as Mitakeumi 

still up and coming 

transcending komusubi 

rank - his sponsored destiny 

lives zooming by real as fuck -

human hearts pumping blood and

brains fired up with consciousness

burning dinosaurs until

ocean swallows us back whole,

primordial muck return