Friday, February 24, 2017

DF-2 "4 am"




Words, photo and sounds by: Rich Sudney

  The silent world of night beholds the bearers of the slumbering animals. As most of them meditate collectively in alterative realities guided by deep thought, a few of us work the midnight oil till the dawn hour where by the rising Taurus believes all was a dream. Restless and weary, the hours after 4 am calls the end of our nightly duty. No one sees nor can relate to works of hands on the floors of reality as many forgets day's past events in love, anger or neutrality. These streets empty, dark, and sometimes inhabitant by floating spirits conversing with cold sub zero winds, are gently painted in white light equally erased by deep darkness. Store front buildings undercover by this darkness are reveled by second floor apartment lights, assuring their vacantness to the world. Silhouettes in the windows, we can only hope there living. Silhouettes in the windows, living is our only hope.



 
  Guided by double yellow streaks, this driver holds on to existence. Rumor has it that the low rumbling taos hum, the product of over stimulated minds during day light (chaotic thoughts), is harmoniously a single pattern as people dream. With windows down, the wind blowing across his ears diffuses road ambient noise in a colorful sonic waves of motion. The signals of greens, yellows, and reds collides into one mess of violets and blues. The window on  the sidewalk reads "MERRY" in black bold letters. Lighted by fat round marquee blubs, a white lace shade cloth contrasts it like nocturnal ideas of  beauty in the eye of the beholder. As rain drops on the surface of the road, headlight reflections dance in suggestive movements over cracks and ruts only to be cutoff by the splash puddles from car wheels racing to catch a free red light. "You know the chicken got to greedy and danced across the road" he confessed wearing a rubber trench coat, as he pushes his youthful enthusiasms in a broken grocery cart back to where he found them. A hand written sign taped on the front reads, "Bottle collecting lessons - Bring your own cart". In a half drunken voice, confirms that, "He was run over by the very egg that hatched him". Smiling under a novelty children's duck umbrella, the man dissolves into water, leaving behind a cloud of oneness. A cloud we only can see and not touch. Like our thoughts.



  This ride in the country side, split between reality and the left lane, as proven by orange growths along side the tree line where our world meets with theirs. The darkness constant and forbidding, grows out of it's wonder as dawn approaches. Time. Time has it ourselves. Considering it's embodiment where as it's origin, placed in our minds to remind. Remind of what? That we have all the time in the universe beyond the grave? Maybe so, but let us revisit the muted environment. Peaceful, empty, and feeling of unconstrained freedom. This is your town, city, garden or second floor window.

 
 Songs of cricket's fly past his ear, high up above in the tall elder oak trees lining this lonely side street. An orchestral conducted by lazy eyed thoughts of retirement of the day's work and struggles. Synthesizers buzzing and humming in the distant night, grows and weans in unison with mixer's of warm and cool breezes from the lake. Time? Where did it go? "It went to bed like the rest of you", the voice on the radio said with confidence. "...and now a word from our sponsors - Time rap. The only time traveling blanket used by the NFL"

  Engine hot as  hell, wheels on spin dry, windshield wipers time synced to the atomic clock, we are leaning over the steering wheel in deep though of the next 4 pm.

track listing:

01: 4 am......................................17:43 min

02: 4 pm...............................................15:57 min

03: Three Fifty Nine AM..........................4:02 min



download album zip


full writings in pdf


pdf album sleeve

                                                

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

DF-1 Nothing To Fight About


words, photo and sounds by: Rich Sudney

  Bless the all great American slacker. He not cares about the big picture around his finely manicured classic sports car, as he lovingly applies liberal amounts of car polish on the front bumper. Carefully missing the cheap plastic headlamp with a dirty used sock in one hand, and in the other a can of cheap watered down beer. A warm early Saturday evening, as the sun just begins to drop below the tree line, he works meticulously polishing his car inside of his well equipped garage. The last few square inches are all that's left and a half empty beer. Wiping the hands clean, he takes the last great gulp out of the can of beer. Stands back to admire the mirror finish he created on this 40 year old, 350 hp, turbo charged, low mileage beast of a automobile. Imagining riding it on some quiet winding country road, he utters the most heart felt and thought provoking statement only fit for a Shakespeare play..."Yep."




 Tossing the empty beer can towards a pile of like beer cans in the corner of the garage, he stumbles out into the sun lite cracked and uneven driveway. Dodging the tall weeds planted unyielding between those cracks as he makes his way to the back door, squinting his eye's from spending way to much time in that dark garage. The only thing on his mind now is entertainment. "Ahrrr, see what's on the computer" talking to himself in a half drunken voice. Forcefully pushing the dirty wooden back door open, he runs to the bathroom through the kitchen. As roaches on the floor scatter towards safety, a stack of dirty dish in the sink (with mold growing on them) call out in loneliness to be cleaned. Retiring to the bed room, our prodigious hero lays on his well warn-in bed. The laptops screen glowing brightly onto a darken stain area of the wall where his head is usually rested upon;  his only communication to the outside world is through this bargain no-name brand computer. Scanning some of his favorite political and news commentary video shows, his anger starts. Conceived with disapproval from some politicians for whom are featured in such videos, the commentators tisk, tisk's them in outrage. Having the urge to shake his head along with agreement, he throws out rages of bitter anger. Discharging resentments for the problems he faces on a daily basis, blaming them for it. Exhausted by his own rant, he calms down. "Ahh! I'll watch something funny!", he exclaims with the sound of defeat in his voice. A swift stroke of the mouse, up pops more videos of people doing stupid a dangerous stunts on camera. As darkness falls, we see him laughing with enjoyment of watching people getting hurt in his dark dank room while the big picture around him fades away.


  This is Al, the great American slacker. Prevailing collector of grubble. Fine connoisseur of the single malt elixir. Trained devotee to secrete knowledge of the rebuilt, rebored, and reground "V block" engines. Able to multi-task collective mystical philosophies of todays gossiped political news, all with beer in hand. Yes he is the guru of all that is slack. Not having the slightest care what so ever of the world at large around him but will argue with any opponent that he's the man for the job in the oval office. He's Al, a person who could be anywhere. A guy in a small town or large city. He's your annoying tool borrowing neighbor. The young do nothing hipster down the street. He even could be the mailman delivering your junk mail. You see, everyone is Al in some small sense. We all have that ability to shut the world out. It's easier now more than ever with the accessibility of entertainment. T.V., the internet and sometimes reading, it's all designed to distract the mind. Don't look over at the starving family down the block! Here, watch this new episode tonight only on FOX and don't forget to check out this viral video of a starving family down your block.

  

  The Al's of the world had lost their sense of accord with the environment because of this, lacking the will to fight for what's true and completely disengaged with society. As far fetch as it might seems, just look at how much time per day you spend with T.V.s or computers. Devices like these are everywhere. In your room, in your pocket, at the gas pump, in the doctors waiting room - Give it time and they will be in your head. They tell you what to watch, what to think, what to buy, what to eat - Give it time and it will tell you how to be. It's relentless commercial ads, forces to sell your soul to imaginary beliefs, imaginary promises, imaginary lifestyles - Give it time and you will become imaginary.

  Don't become an Al. Because you will have "Nothing To Fight About"
track listing:

01: Nothing To Fight About......................................5:56 min

02: Forest Walk................................................10:32 min

03: Distant Birds..........................9:01 min



download album zip


full writings in pdf


pdf album sleeve

                                                

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Welcome.





                                                                       ~OPEN~
Welcome to Diacoustic-Forest. This is the blog site of Rich Sudney. The purpose is sharing music and ideas. Here you will find general interest posts and how to tutorials.