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jesterlady
- Seattle, WA
- Last Record: 2013-06-18 00:36:52 -0500
- Joined: Sep 03, 2010
- http://jesterlady.live...
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All hearts for this week.
As always if there's anything you want me to see or respond to, tell me here as I will always come back here to check on things since the dashboards don't work.
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His soul Her soul He sweeps her off her feet. She comes to kiss him in the rain The full times of a love story Where the magic n... |
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I really enjoy the Shadow Caste characters and wanted to make something in honor of what I have seen. I used the Ombre factoid in the shadow beings collection by soapy and the Shadow Caste patter background by totallyjamie as a resource in this. My whirlwind version will hopefully give viewers a new spin on a possible t-shirt or anything else. I hope you enjoy.
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Tock-ticktick-Taa It wasn’t a loud sound. In fact, it was kind of surreal. The beak-on-wood made a surprisingly hollow sound that resonated quietly, b... |
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Happy Valentine's Day, sexymoustache :-)
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The tile floor is surprisingly cold against my feet as I walk across the kitchen. I grab a chair as I pass by the table and drag it toward the window. That’s probably not very good f... |
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You know those guys who dance with kids at weddings and family events? You know the kind. Innocent with a charm that makes the...
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For Mrs Pine x
To my secret Valentine Barush...
I may not know you very well, just through seeing your art and writing. We've never talked, but that doesn't matter to me. I hope you have a wonderful day, full of love and friendship. Hopefully this will fill your day with lots of good thoughts and happiness. Happy Valentine's Day!!! <3
I also wanted to remix one of your records, but it turned out to be not so Valentine's-ish, which is why I made this record instead. So here is the remix of your poem "I'm glad you liked my autopsy" - http://hitrecord.org/records/662897
=)
Don't look past something inspiring in search of inspiration. This song is about a promise I made that sadly, with much heartache and dispair, I couldn't keep.
lyrics:
Well, I lied to my window today
as I washed him 'cause we're friends with mutual gain.
You see, I keep him clean, he keeps me from going insane.
But I lied to my window today. He said:
"Boy. Don't you forget me when your famous.
I helped you write the best songs you have."
I said: "I'd rather finish last with a friend by my side, then first with a knife in my back.
'Cause words could never quite say, all that you've said for me.
No, words could never quite do, all that you've done for me.
But I must say anyway, that
I'm sorry if I always Looked through you
I'm sorry if I left you with your panes
'Cause I lifted you up when it was sunny outside
And I pushed you down in the rain."
So don't lie to your windows boys and girls
In the end it only causes you grief
'Cause what is fame if he can't remember your name
and still comes in the night like a thief?
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My amazing wife "Jan" wrote this short story for my 25th birthday. It is from the diaries of our snuggly fat cat pickles. Maybe someone could could inspire artwork for a league of pirate cats? i... |
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I love what Fabulously Freckled did so I doubled the length and added some war-like music... they mean business!
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I've been on HitRECord for a year And I've had so much fun For the many hearts, inspiration and support, I'd like to thank each and every one &nbs... |
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I made the tiny guillotine last Friday and planned to do the stop-motion then but the store was out of Jelly Babies :( I finally got them today and made this to contribute!
I can upload something more high-res if anyone wants to use it for something.
A blank song someone can work with! From a royalty free album.
The lyrics for this simple, poppy little song were created entirely through the photographs and scans from the City Autopsy collaboration...!
I'm walking round London town [Lidan london]
On Route 38
The map's in my pocket
Forgotten all about it
With my champagne headache
But my eyes are sunrising somewhere far away [Lidan hometown]
Where today's still a dream
Where I'm still holding on to a paper heart
From the mess in my jeans
Do you remember me?
When we built this city
There's a place in my head like a poker wheel [JohnnyClyde]
With a dice and a thousand clocks
And I can play my cards and wish real hard
For the bad luck to finally stop
But then it's back to earth, things to do [acrooks Baltimore]
Places I gotta be
But I've still got a part
Of that material heart
From the mess in my jeans
From the mess in my jeans
Do you remember me?
When we built this city
Take another glass and the long way home [Mlle_Genevieve]
And bookmark time for the next episode
Smoke away the last cigarette [maryer96 Park City]
And tidy away the glamour and trinkets
It's time to go
Time to forget this home.
I'm on a train in a place whose name [SuzyRene Paris]
Has all but disappeared
The lipstick stains have faded again
Like the things I used to fear
Like a well worn play there's a happy end [Lauraolivia Nova Scotia]
If I follow the signs and the streets
I'll find what I need tickets and stubs
And the mess in my jeans
And the mess in my jeans
You will remember me
When I build this city.
It was actually hard to find bits. Harder than I thought! This collection of items all has a story connected to the city behind them.
Also, behold my graphic designer fussiness when it comes to alignment.
Clockwise from the top left:
My student card from Dalhousie University. A Valentine I got in the mail today from my favourite vintage clothing boutique. Below that, a recipt from one of my other favourite boutiques. A keychain that plays classic swing music. Beneath that, my little plastic mug from the Seaport Beerfest last August where my friends and I acted like right proper beer snobs. The Lonely Planet Atlantic Canada guide I bought before moving to Nova Scotia to help my mom decide where she wanted to live. A pair of Egyptian-style earrings bought this summer with two good friends at the Multicultural Festival. The program for my convocation from Dal in May. A voucher to a restaurant in an envelope. A membership card for the Dalhousie Swing Dance Society that I designed. The businesscard for a restaurant I do marketing for. I designed it and the logo. A classical music tour program that I put together during my last summer job. Bus tickets to our currently (on strike) transit system.
When my mom saw the original I made, she requested I make a colored version. Here is my "practice sheet". Now I will do it again in pencils and paints.
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"Whoever drinks the water that I give will never be thirsty. The water that I give will become in that person a well of life that lasts forever" -Jesus
dear bloemday,
i must say that i had seen a few of your remixes and other RECords in the past, but i had never really gone and really looked through them.
your work is beautiful! it was so fun to make this for you!
i hope you like it, and that you have a very happy valentine's day! :)
<3,
kouralilly
Just adding this up to show that I have been working towards having something. I still have a fair amount to add, but I wanted to make sure y'all knew that I'm working towards pulling something together even if I'm doing it slowly.
Open mic night on campus. Sorry its shitty-camera-phone-quality video, but I promised I'd let you see so here it is.
I composed this piece based on a theme of independence. I was thinking someone could possibly remix this or add a video of pictures or something creative. Please leave suggestions fellow composers!
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Just look closer and read the material: the paper, the pulp, the tree that hugs the ink--it's between the lines and snuggled within the letters. Just look closer, the closest you can ge... |
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This is a song I recorded in my room for a uni Project. Hope you enjoy
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misery loves company -----> misery loves whiskey
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Some information about Ruben Dario:
Félix Rubén García Sarmiento (January 18, 1867, Metapa, Matagalpa, Nicaragua – February 6, 1916, León, Nicaragua), known as Rubén Darío, was a Nicaraguan poet who initiated the Spanish-American literary movement known as modernismo (modernism) that flourished at the end of the 19th century. Darío has had a great and lasting influence on 20th-century Spanish literature and journalism. He has been praised as the "Prince of Castilian Letters" and undisputed father of the modernismo literary movement.
Darío died on February 6, 1916, aged 49, in León. The funeral lasted several days, and he was interred in the city's cathedral on February 13, 1916, at the base of the statue of Saint Paul near the chancel under a lion made of marble by the sculptor Jorge Navas Cordonero.
All his work/poems are public domain!!!!
Special thanks to barush that helped me to find the translation of this poem to english!!!!
He made 35 books, and a lot of poems, this one is my favorite:
Poema Los Motivos Del Lobo de Rubén Darío
El varón que tiene corazón de lis,
alma de querube, lengua celestial,
el mínimo y dulce Francisco de Asís,
está con un rudo y torvo animal,
bestia temerosa, de sangre y de robo,
las fauces de furia, los ojos de mal:
el lobo de Gubbia, el terrible lobo,
rabioso, ha asolado los alrededores;
cruel ha deshecho todos los rebaños;
devoró corderos, devoró pastores,
y son incontables sus muertes y daños.
Fuertes cazadores armados de hierros
fueron destrozados. Los duros colmillos
dieron cuenta de los más bravos perros,
como de cabritos y de corderillos.
Francisco salió:
al lobo buscó
en su madriguera.
Cerca de la cueva encontró a la fiera
enorme, que al verle se lanzó feroz
contra él. Francisco, con su dulce voz,
alzando la mano,
al lobo furioso dijo: ?¡Paz, hermano
lobo! El animal
contempló al varón de tosco sayal;
dejó su aire arisco,
cerró las abiertas fauces agresivas,
y dijo: ?¡Está bien, hermano Francisco!
¡Cómo! ?exclamó el santo?. ¿Es ley que tú vivas
de horror y de muerte?
¿La sangre que vierte
tu hocico diabólico, el duelo y espanto
que esparces, el llanto
de los campesinos, el grito, el dolor
de tanta criatura de Nuestro Señor,
no han de contener tu encono infernal?
¿Vienes del infierno?
¿Te ha infundido acaso su rencor eterno
Luzbel o Belial?
Y el gran lobo, humilde: ¡Es duro el invierno,
y es horrible el hambre! En el bosque helado
no hallé qué comer; y busqué el ganado,
y en veces comí ganado y pastor.
¿La sangre? Yo vi más de un cazador
sobre su caballo, llevando el azor
al puño; o correr tras el jabalí,
el oso o el ciervo; y a más de uno vi
mancharse de sangre, herir, torturar,
de las roncas trompas al sordo clamor,
a los animales de Nuestro Señor.
Y no era por hambre, que iban a cazar.
Francisco responde: En el hombre existe
mala levadura.
Cuando nace viene con pecado. Es triste.
Mas el alma simple de la bestia es pura.
Tú vas a tener
desde hoy qué comer.
Dejarás en paz
rebaños y gente en este país.
¡Que Dios melifique tu ser montaraz!
Está bien, hermano Francisco de Asís.
Ante el Señor, que todo ata y desata,
en fe de promesa tiéndeme la pata.
El lobo tendió la pata al hermano de Asís,
que a su vez le alargó la mano.
Fueron a la aldea. La gente veía
y lo que miraba casi no creía.
Tras el religioso iba el lobo fiero,
y, baja la testa, quieto le seguía
como un can de casa, o como un cordero.
Francisco llamó la gente a la plaza
y allí predicó.
Y dijo: He aquí una amable caza.
El hermano lobo se viene conmigo;
me juró no ser ya vuestro enemigo,
y no repetir su ataque sangriento.
Vosotros, en cambio, daréis su alimento
a la pobre bestia de Dios. ¡Así sea!,
contestó la gente toda de la aldea.
Y luego, en señal
de contentamiento,
movió testa y cola el buen animal,
y entró con Francisco de Asís al convento.
*
Algún tiempo estuvo el lobo tranquilo
en el santo asilo.
Sus bastas orejas los salmos oían
y los claros ojos se le humedecían.
Aprendió mil gracias y hacía mil juegos
cuando a la cocina iba con los legos.
Y cuando Francisco su oración hacía,
el lobo las pobres sandalias lamía.
Salía a la calle,
iba por el monte, descendía al valle,
entraba en las casas y le daban algo
de comer. Mirábanle como a un manso galgo.
Un día, Francisco se ausentó. Y el lobo
dulce, el lobo manso y bueno, el lobo probo,
desapareció, tornó a la montaña,
y recomenzaron su aullido y su saña.
Otra vez sintióse el temor, la alarma,
entre los vecinos y entre los pastores;
colmaba el espanto los alrededores,
de nada servían el valor y el arma,
pues la bestia fiera
no dio treguas a su furor jamás,
como si tuviera
fuegos de Moloch y de Satanás.
Cuando volvió al pueblo el divino santo,
todos lo buscaron con quejas y llanto,
y con mil querellas dieron testimonio
de lo que sufrían y perdían tanto
por aquel infame lobo del demonio.
Francisco de Asís se puso severo.
Se fue a la montaña
a buscar al falso lobo carnicero.
Y junto a su cueva halló a la alimaña.
En nombre del Padre del sacro universo,
conjúrote dijo, ¡oh lobo perverso!,
a que me respondas: ¿Por qué has vuelto al mal?
Contesta. Te escucho.
Como en sorda lucha, habló el animal,
la boca espumosa y el ojo fatal:
Hermano Francisco, no te acerques mucho…
Yo estaba tranquilo allá en el convento;
al pueblo salía,
y si algo me daban estaba contento
y manso comía.
Mas empecé a ver que en todas las casas
estaban la Envidia, la Saña, la Ira,
y en todos los rostros ardían las brasas
de odio, de lujuria, de infamia y mentira.
Hermanos a hermanos hacían la guerra,
perdían los débiles, ganaban los malos,
hembra y macho eran como perro y perra,
y un buen día todos me dieron de palos.
Me vieron humilde, lamía las manos
y los pies. Seguía tus sagradas leyes,
todas las criaturas eran mis hermanos:
los hermanos hombres, los hermanos bueyes,
hermanas estrellas y hermanos gusanos.
Y así, me apalearon y me echaron fuera.
Y su risa fue como un agua hirviente,
y entre mis entrañas revivió la fiera,
y me sentí lobo malo de repente;
mas siempre mejor que esa mala gente.
y recomencé a luchar aquí,
a defenderme y a alimentar.
Como el oso hace, como el jabalí,
que para vivir tienen que matar.
Déjame en el monte, déjame en el risco,
déjame existir en mi libertad,
vete a tu convento, hermano Francisco,
sigue tu camino y tu santidad.
El santo de Asís no le dijo nada.
Le miró con una profunda mirada,
y partió con lágrimas y con desconsuelos,
y habló al Dios eterno con su corazón.
El viento del bosque llevó su oración,
que era: Padre nuestro, que estás en los cielos…
The Wolf's Motives
(a translation of "Los Motivos del Lobo" by Rubén Dario)
That good man with a heart pure as a lily,
a cherub's soul, a celestial tongue,
diminutive, sweet Francis of Assis,
met with a creature bloodthirsty and grim,
bestial, fearsome, thieving and ravaging,
nothing of pity or remorse in him.
The Wolf of Gubbio, the terrible wolf,
rabid, had ruined calm countrysides,
ferociously slaughtered whole flocks by himself,
devoured rams and ewe lambs--even shepherds,
causing much carnage, much wastage of goods.
Hunters armed with pitchforks and scythes
fled at the sight of his long, yellow fangs.
He tore out the throats of the dogs. Hopeless wives
prayed and prepared to yield up their lives.
Who could live in such dread of such pangs?
Saint Francis went out.
He looked for the wolf.
He searched out the wolf in his den.
And there, near the cave, he encountered the beast,
which launched itself fiercely at him.
With his sweet voice, good Francis, raising his hand,
said to the mad carnivore,
"Peace, Brother Wolf."
Beast looked at man, in the sackcloth he always wore,
and was less churlish--a bit--than before,
uncurling his lip, his demeanor
showing he'd changed his mind about dinner.
"Very well, Brother Francis, what have you to say?"
The saint exclaimed, "What! Does the law
now decree you live by rapine and death?
The blood that revoltingly runs
down that muzzle from Hell, the hideous dread
you cause and you spread,
the cry of the farmer, the grieving and shrill
lament of poor creatures lent us by Our Lord....
Can't you temper your hellish ill-will?
Are you infernal?
Did Belial or Luzbel
in sulphurous Hell
inspire you with rancor eternal?"
And the humbled great wolf:
"Well, here the winter is hard.
If fasting's a virtue, famine's a vice.
In the forest, all ice,
when there's nothing to eat,
I go nose out some livestock that's nice
and at times eat both shepherd and sheep.
"And the gore?
I see more
from a hunter on horseback, a goshawk on his wrist,
or chasing the stag or the bear or the boar;
and more often than not he bloodies and wounds
and tortures, his horn's brassy blare
drowning their sigh and their cry as they die,
those creatures of God our True Lord.
And nor was it just for mere hunger pangs
he went out a-hunting." (A baring of fangs!)
Responded good Francis, "In man there exists
a kind of ferment or leaven.
Though born into sin, he's intended for Heaven.
It is sad, for the beast's soul is simple and pure.
You are going to have from now on, I assure,
always something tasty to eat
but must in these hills leave forever in peace
the shepherds, the sheep and their fleece.
May our Great Kind God make you softer and mild,
who were nurtured in mountains so wild."
"All right, Brother Francis. Now, before God,
who binds and unbinds, here and in Heaven,
let's be joined before Him, a sign of faith given."
The wolf then offered the Brother his paw,
which Francis took in his strong, warm hand.
They were then at the village. The people all saw--
a pair they could not understand.
After the holy man came the fierce wolf,
his head humbly bowed, following calm,
like a little pet dog or a new-born ewe lamb.
Francis called the people out into the square
and preached there. Here's what he said:
"We can now enjoy pleasant sport with our friend
Brother Wolf, who comes with me gently.
He swears he's never seen us as his enemy
and will not repeat his attacks.
You, in turn, give him food
and hearty brotherhood
so that nothing lacks
to this fellow creature of God."
"So be it!" shouted they all.
And soon, now content,
the great, gray wolf went,
wagging his tail,
and with Francis entered the convent.
For some time the wolf was wholly at peace
in a refuge so quiet and calm.
His huge ears attended the sweetly-sung psalm,
and his bright eyes would turn moist and glisten
as he learned a thousand graces and games
with the gentle friars in the kitchen.
And when Francis preached
the wolf, freed of all lust,
licked the gray dust
from the worn sandals on the saint's feet.
The wolf walked in the street;
he reaced on the hill; and down in the vale
he entered the houses. Friends gave him to eat
as to a greyhound, graceful and sleek.
But then one day
Saint Francis went away.
And what of our beautiful wolf?
The fine, upright wolf, so tame and so good,
disappeared; he returned to the hills,
where as of old his hideous howls
made the night frightful, turning the bowels
of his former neighbors, the shepherds, their flocks.
The wolf, returning to his error,
renewed the old alarm and terror.
Arms and bravery served for naught,
since the fierce beast
in his madness and rage offered no truce,
like Moloch and Satan at war.
The good little saint, come back to the town,
was assaulted with grumbling and tears.
With a thousand complaints the citizens cried
of what they'd put up with and suffered so much
for that infamous devil the wolf.
Saint Francis of Assisi could be severe.
He climbed up alone on the rocky hills
to look for the false, carnivorous wolf.
A saintly man, I warn you,
can be a man to fear.
And when he reached the den of the ravening beast
he addressed him sternly, thus:
"In the name of the Father of the sacred universe
I conjure you, O savage wolf,
to answer why you have turned so perverse.
I'm waiting. Reply. And I expect proof."
The wolf seemed to struggle, mouth dripping with foam.
But looked the saint in the eye and dryly observed,
"Brother Francis, you do not approach very near....
"I was happy to live in your convent.
In the village I went freely in and out.
With the gifts of food I was content
and ate gently what was put on my plate.
But in every house I began to see hate,
envy, passion, and anger
and in all the faces shone danger,
like live coals, of hate and lewdness, infamy, lies....
Brothers against their own brothers made war;
the weak lost; the evil won;
man and woman were like dog and bitch.
And beware:
one fine day they all beat me with sticks
and tore out patches of my hair.
"I felt lowly. I tried to give gentle licks
to their hands and their feet.
I followed your sacred law:
Men were my brothers; my brothers were stars.
My brothers were oxen and worms and nightjars.
"The men, my loved brothers, they cudgeled me
and drove me out of the town,
their sneers and their shouts
searing oil on my back running down.
"And then in my entrails the fierceness revived.
I suddenly felt like a wolf...
but better by far than those men I had left.
I began once again my struggle to live,
to care for my needs, to find food--
as a bear does, as does a wild boar
who has to kill to survive.
"Abandon me to the mountain now.
Leave me here on the crag in the wild.
Let me live out my life free,
as was meant to be.
It cannot be beguiled
by your virtues. Follow your road.
Brother Francis, follow your sanctity."
The saint of Assisi said nothing
but, with a sad face, looked long at the wolf
and left in tears, disconsolate,
and spoke to Eternal God in his heart.
The wind of the forest raised up his prayer
through the pure, high mountain air.
His plea started this way, his heart nearly riven:
"Father...Our Father, which art in Heaven...."
My dear Zohra, I wasn't playing Secret Valentine, because I was organizing this, but the thing is that your original Secret Valentine, is having some personal problems so he/she is not going to be able to make your gift this time, this person was sad about it, but I told him/her that I was going to be your Secret valentine and don't worry about it, I can't be more happy to have the chance to make you a gift, because you know that I love you and that I love your music and records, and also because you are so talented and so amazing!!! Anyway it's still a surprise, because I wasn't playing and you probably didn't expected that I was your Secret valentine! so I hope you like the idea!
I made this small video with some of your records, music and images and also I made a remix with some of them, Hope you like it!
Thanks for being such a wonderful friend, LOVE U! Happy valentine's day!!!!
XOXOXOXO
Gaby
Image of James Joyce in public domain http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:James_Joyce_by_Alex_Ehrenzweig,_1915.jpg
Words from Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, in the public domain as of January 1st 2012.
For all the single people out there, I wrote us a song. Screw you Valentines day!
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Just be yourself... Unless you are an asshole. |
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A new ditty i've been trying to finish uploading here for others to use.
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Misery loves company ---> Happiness loves company |
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When life hands you lemons, make sure you get a receipt. |
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All roads lead to Rome. --> If all your roads lead to the same place, your map is too small. |
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If you were a man and I was a woman
I would never turn my back on you
I would say
"My Dear, you are a needle in a haystack and I will dive deep in there to find you everytime because you are that special. That's right my dear, there is no question about it. Not even a glimmer of a doubt"
So be gone. Let those worries walk right out that door.
You know why? Cause we're all friends here.
We can mate. We can eat. We can scrub the tub.
And yet we know we live under one nation.
Full of freedom. Even in the darkest of nights.
That's right my dear. You can clean up the papers in the street.
But the leaves will fall forever because we are the magic makers.
We are the children. We will laugh no matter how sad the world appears to us.
You know why? Cause we can't help but to love. To love love. And to let love be loved.
Even when it makes us tired and we feel we dont have an ounce to give.
We vow in that moment we will give every last drop.