@vinnyconte Thanks for listening from us...it's a  Yamaha MX88.

Very beautiful Synthesizer, Love the piano and especially the flutes!

Beautiful music. And the text! How can one be so lucid about one's madness? It's like the writer/perceiver is somehow separate and distinct -- and yet not-- from the one experiencing the episodes of insanity.

Reading the text while listening is truly quieting and peaceful. Suvch artistry on display. Wonderful. Durge

Welcome to the circus. . Well...this is very different from what I use to play. 
I got the idea to borrow parts of the lyrics from The Beatles song Piggies ( George Harrison)
A oblique glance on greedy people
nothing serious about this, just for fun.
But...I`m using my own composition for the occasion
You could call it a sarcastic song but with a sense of humour 


Have you seen the little piggies
Crawling in the dirt?
And for all the little piggies
Life is getting worse,
Always having dirt to play around in

Have you seen the bigger piggies
In their starched white shirts?
You will find the bigger piggies
Stirring up the dirt,
Always have clean shirts to play around in

Everywhere there's lots of piggies
Living piggy lives
You can see them out for dinner
With their piggy wives
Clutching forks and knives to eat the bacon
One more time

Piggies

The Busker (Piano Improv)

The Shape The Sound The Pose

All music, words and composition by S. Drysdale

S. Drysdale- Vox, Guitars, Clay, Keys, Fretless Bass, Bass VI, Slap Bass

A. Reed- Engineering, Programing, Keys

The Shape The Sound The Pose

I was thinking maybe it's been too long since I've done a nautical themed track...

Washed Ashore

02/24/2024

Low Blow

I HAVE FRIENDS AND FAMILY WHO DO CARE, SOME PEOPLE DO NOT, OPEN YOUR HEARTS TO THEM AND SHOW YOU CARE
Hello
Hello
Is there anybody there
Can anyone hear me

Hello
Is anybody listening
Sorry, I just, I need to talk
...to somebody
Hello
The pain just won't go away
Everytime I hear noises
I jump and I cry
I can't sleep anymore
But when I wake up
I'm in a ball and I'm shaking
Hello
Is there anybody there
Can anybody hear me

Sorry, I can't do this alone
Sorry, my,my head won't stop ringing 

I just want this to go away

Nobody cares 'bout what's happened to you
Nobody cares when you call
Nobody cares.... at all
Nobody cares when you fall

And she said « Ha ! » you know I'm really so tired
About hearing about your problems  
Just stop calling him
Nobody cares 
About you ! About your problems !

Sorry we can't just keep answering your call
Sorry we just don't really care at all

I'll go away and hide in my hole
and cry somemore....

Nobody Cares

Nobody Cares ( collab OneManStaringContest)

In the Sun

04/20/2024.

Please Let Me Drive Now

04/23/2024

Finger Nails On A Chalk Board

Live And Learn w/Jussi welin guitar

Bellevue

I live in New York. Manhattan, in fact. Isn't that grand? I live in Bellevue. I cannot care for myself; I have episodes. I don't know or recall what they are like, what I do or did and I am told that it is of no consequence now. I have never asked how long I must stay. Nor have I ever asked myself whether I could deal with the answer. I am here and warm and that is fine.

I have my medicine when I wake. The chalky pellets are important to me. They signify another day. Another chance to let colours, murmurs, shadows, faces, routines, aromas wash through me. I may lay for hours on my cheek and drink in the clips of shoes, the clatters of trolleys, the distant dulling boathorns, the hum of the lamps. Vinnie may come over and pull out a fistful of hair from the side of his head. He always gifts it to me, with a gentle bow, pinching it between his fingers like a tiny posie. A blessing. Maddie used to come over with her bedsheets cradled in her arms to show me Esther, her newborn. A blessing, too.

I used to want to run through Kips Bay, down to the railings by the river, breathing the noise and smelling the whole vastness of the city. But now I like my tiny universe...a few square yards of white walls and gunmetal grey floors. When Donald takes me on his arm to the trees outside, the tang of taxi fumes, cigarettes and street food is too piquant, too otherly.

Back inside I write you a letter, like I do everyday. But the thoughts never come. Nor do the words. I drink in the beautiful, small phenomena around me. I usually draw the shapes of my thoughts because you like these things...I remember. Donald will post it, he promises. But maybe he's just saying that. If I die, you should marry Donald. He could look after you. Momma was talking to you, the last time I saw you both, but I don't know what she said. I don't like to ask them how you are.. perhaps you could write? That would be a blessing.

29/September/2020

Bellevue/ Dedicated to the victims of mental illness/Text By Nick Davies

I didn't choose this obsession it was chosen for me unknowingly.
Lucky me no regrets.

Bellevue/ Dedicated to the victims of mental illness/Text By Nick Davies

J.Rivas

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