Come what may.
Wind in his face.
Ice in the rain.
Omega shelf.
Edge of the land.
The whole mass shifts.
It may as well be the edge of the galaxy.

These thoughts, roads, pathways: a fallacy
a carefully contrived anomaly.

Breeze of her passing above his grave.
The flowers hang in droves
while the dew bends them back down
to their beginnings.

Words by Riley Robinson

Come What May

There are many versions and different traditions of the story of the Magi and about their journey. And about their origin. Pictured on the cover is a drawing found in the 'Catalan Atlas,' a map of the world dated to the late 14th century. Pictured here are the three kings. The caption reads: “This province is called Tarshish, from which came the Three Wise Kings, and they came to Bethlehem in Judaea with their gifts and worshipped Jesus Christ, and they are entombed in the city of Cologne two days journey from Bruges.”
But where was the city (or the country) called Tarshish (Tarsis, Tharsis), whose king was already mentioned in Psalm 72?
No one, exactly, knows.

----

I recorded the guitar part in 2018, when bought a Guild (my Washburn had become mute ...), so the track has a lot of noise and imperfections. Then there were several attempts to organize the piece and arrange it. This could be the last one. It came rather long and slow. But long and slow was also that improbable (and hardly true) journey - perhaps one could imagine it by closing the eyes and listening to the music.

----

Composed by Michele Ansani (2018-2024).
Bansuri is courtesy of Aaroh; female vocals of Function Loops.
posted on SoundCloud: 2024, December 31

Traveling from Tarshish to Bethlehem * 🎧

Cast of Characters:
Steve's Planet -- @steve-vervaet — acoustic guitar, vocals, lyrics, and composition
K2 and the Three [and the Four]--@k2andthe3, @k2-kara -–Ken–drums
Llanpsych -- @llanpsych -- Tez – Fender Stratocaster electric guitar
Mistrermark -- @user-432503709 — Mark — organ 
Entheogenic Psychonaught (Josh Clary)–@josh-clary-1 –- four string fretless Warwick bass, Roland electric piano, organ
TexMex Shaman–@texmex-shaman –Stephen– mix, mastering, and production
  
This song began with Steve, who wrote it, and recorded his guitar and singing parts on the same track, before sharing it with Eclectic Collective about half a year ago, back in the fall. Always grateful to Steve for sharing his amazing music with us, we kept it alive even though it had stalled out on us for whatever reason. 
  We had a decent skeleton from our original go at it, but decided to scrap it, and start fresh. After Stephen pulled some production wizardry to isolate Steve's vocal & guitar parts into two separate tracks, Ken, being the one who actually revived it, added his solid drums first, providing for a groovy foundation. Tez came next, surprisingly, adding his hooky guitar fills throughout. Mark hopped on shortly after, adding the organ you hear coming in around the 2:00 mark. Josh took his turn after that, by adding his fretless bass to complete the rhythm section. He also, in the same recording session, added the electric piano you hear throughout, as well as the backing organ in the first half. 
  Once it was in the can, we asked Stephen to mix it for us, in his always professional manner. 
  We all love working on Steve's songs, and admire him as a musician, singer, and songwriter. This makes almost a half dozen songs on which the EC has collaborated with Steve, and we're sure to add many more. We hope you enjoy listening to this song as much as we enjoyed creating it.

Original lyrics by Steve's Planet

Please Come Home (The Eclectic Collective / Steve's Planet)

From the 2023 relese "Pour Vous". Visual album version available at YouTube: youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8T5Lghk0rkScV5_d8uTndbgezvu_0Vxl

Un Programme - Suitcase of Tape

Funk Project

Shine (Inst.)

You can look at the water endlessly... Thanks to nature, something musical often comes to mind and pops out from under your fingers...

Looking at the water

YouTube link: https://youtu.be/tcBoy7syI20 

Anyone who commits a crime must reckon with the punishment, as breaking the law carries consequences – both legal and moral. The penalty not only serves as a form of retribution for the harm done, but also has a deterrent, educational, and corrective function – reminding us that an individual's freedom ends where the harm to another person begins.  ✌️  Każdy, kto popełnia przestępstwo, musi się liczyć z karą, ponieważ złamanie prawa pociąga za sobą konsekwencje – zarówno prawne, jak i moralne. Kara nie tylko stanowi formę odpłaty za wyrządzoną krzywdę, ale również pełni funkcję odstraszającą, wychowawczą i naprawczą – przypominając, że wolność jednostki kończy się tam, gdzie zaczyna się krzywda drugiego człowieka.  ✌️  Todo aquel que comete un delito debe contar con una pena, ya que romper la ley conlleva consecuencias, tanto legales como morales. La pena no solo es una forma de retribución por el daño causado, sino que también cumple una función disuasoria, educativa y reparadora, recordando que la libertad del individuo termina donde comienza el daño a otra persona.

Punishment

you can see this jam in koala sampler here: https://youtu.be/HUDeWGlecR0?si=VfSkp3EEzWRUjGsX

prayers of restless minds - live fx

azusio

/ emergency broadcast / emergency broadcast / emergency broadcast /
/
— rollout, transmission, odyssey begins — demo version drop

the incoming age of melancholy:
not simply an era nor a season, but the endless twilight borne of every choice and every surrender,
woven from the threads of every generation’s longing—now, at last, unraveling before our eyes.

it begins as a hush—
not even silence, but something deeper:
the collective holding of breath as we pass through threshold after threshold,
unwilling—unable—to look back
at what still burns on the distant altars,
the cost we never counted,
the price we always assumed someone else would pay.

here, the mountains are made not of stone but of unsent messages,
unspoken apologies, unreached hands.
here is the valley of sacrificed afternoons,
where children chase phantoms,
where memory loses its shape under blue electric light,
where elders recall the scent of rain on pages, the music of patience.
here, the rivers are sorrow and the bridges are compromise,
some scorched, some crossed in regret,
most never rebuilt.

who are we, now, on this side of the threshold?
we—the bold, the bruised, the lonely inheritors of immeasurable plenty and exquisite emptiness—
we raise towers in tribute to unseen gods,
wireless cathedrals and temples that promise everything and deliver
only the ache of again, again, again
another update, another offering, another blinking vigil.

in the age of melancholy, every blessing is double-edged.
comfort comes yoked to numbness;
speed, to the erasure of slow becoming;
certainty, to the narrowing of all that is possible
and the slow extinction of wild hope.

“what did you give for this?” asks the old voice inside—
and we hush it with data, with noise,
with things that will never love us back.

our gods are many—everywhere, nowhere—
famous for a season, then discarded,
as fickle as the pulse in a liquid crystal display.
once, gods demanded faith, sacrifice, story and song.
now, they demand only attention—
bring us your tired eyes, your restless mind, your need to be known.
and in return, they give us chains so beautiful,
we praise them as gifts.

but beneath the wafer-thin bounty, the banquet of quick joys—
the shadow:
for every god installed, something sacred is displaced,
every new device arrives with its own silent requirement
that some part of us—ancient, slow, shimmering—must be left behind.

still, we are the ones who choose, trembling though we are—
again and again, at every threshold:
the altar, the new coin of the realm,
purchase paid in what cannot be replaced.

no one warned us that all this ease would cost us ourselves,
that to belong to the gods of now is to mourn what made us human—
the bruises, the breaks, the precious awkwardness of becoming.

what is melancholy, in this thunderous shadow,
if not the noblest form of remembering?
not a sickness, but a wisdom, a refusal to let the soul’s lost countries be overrun
without one last prayer, one last song.

let us be brave enough to mourn,
bold enough for the trembling joy in sorrow—
to sit by the ghost-lit ruins of intimacy and warmth and hope,
and refuse the command to forget.

for in this age, courage lies not in the conquest of new things,
but in the deep humility of honoring what is lost—
the quiet grace of looking back, and bearing witness,
and speaking to the brave few who will listen:

remember—
before the gods of upgrade and speed,
we danced in forests, we bled and healed together,
we built fires for each other’s warmth,
we told stories that did not sell,
.........
may we, the humbled .....
........4'000 characters.. there's more to it, sorry....
/
artwork illustration by peter uertz, düsseldorf / germany
/
/ lyrics: fictionalive
/ music: a tiny excerpt of the epic mighty double dutch DJ Set
Kasheme's Local Digger Session w/ Murphy & Cavaliere Spruzzi (Save the Vinyl / monorecords)
https://soundcloud.com/kashemezurich/kashemes-local-digger-session-w-murphy-spruzzi-save-the-vinyl-monorecords

Incoming Age of Melancholy — Eternal Dusk Between Eras / The Last Custodians of the Old Music

fictionalive / popoems series / hyper media reports 
2001 / 2011 / 2024

/

/ to(tally) fictionalive or not

/
multi-layered, holistic art project

it speaks take what speaks

/ seen
I want to love – but I need to hate
I need to hate – but I want to love

/
nor this nor that
no black and white
no left or right

/

/ + / ⭕️ and the rest will follow


/
welcome, traveler
made with passion 
just for you

/


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Incoming Age of Melancholy — Eternal Dusk Between Eras / The Last Custodians of the Old Music

fictionalive ⭕️ UNITY