Incongruous U.S. presidential campaign update: I was just pointed by Nils Sens to an interesting blog article Can Sanders do it? Or is Clinton truly inevitable? by John Laurits about the Sander/Clinton campaign math, which suggests that (with California as a linchpin) we will have a contested Democratic convention. Anyone better at math than me care to weigh in? Ok, back to the music programming, some light hits and phased cookies on KTWRP FM.  

Over the past year, I have added another weapon to my arsenal as a presumptive endurance artist. Flute guy.  The photo above came on my fb feed as a "memory" today. During a four week stint as a lentil and chayote stew eating camper in Tulum, I got comfortable in my own skin. Playing music with other people for the sheer joy of it.  Posted exactly a year ago, this captures my first freeform rediscovery of the flute as instrument of choice, with Mariano Graziano from Argentina and a Montreal dude I can't remember.*

You heard right, freeform rediscovery. The thing that I rarely reveal is that I have been playing the flute for years––since a season in the California wilderness with the Bolivian keta (courtesy of ace picker and college roommate Steve Perry) my second year at UC Santa Cruz. I fasted for three days on a ridge next to an ancient Native American hand-printed cave and played keta to find a direction into which life could unfold.

There were a few false starts, but I found it. 

I grew up as an only child in about the most isolated part of the Oakland Hills you could find.  PG&E land populated by eucalyptus, pine, poison oak, unexploded WWII ordinance, and the occasional redwood.  My earliest experiences with music as something to be manipulated as an artist was with an early 1970s model tape recorder that was somehow found or handed down to me. I recorded a lot of random sounds, including stuff off the radio that made interesting narratives. I remember one foible I had  involved speeding up the Beatles' "And Your Bird Can Sing" through half-pushing the fast forward and play buttons together. I was a major Beatles fan at the time, it seemed that every song I heard offered a new possibility. Kids know the darndest things, intuitively. 

Amazingly in hindsight––I was a musical snob who completely disdained Hendrix––the first time I heard Purple Haze on an oldies Top 40 show, I was like, what is this shit and how was it by any conceivable measure a radio hit? The most disappointing birthday gift ever was when Dee gave me a tape of early 1970s Rolling Stones. I was strictly a mid-to-late-1960s Stones fan. And Dylan, my mom's favorite? Forget it. 

Oh yeah, I hear you gentle reader. Roll of eyes, snotty little kid. Yes, I was. 

I am going to jump quite a few years to a time in the late 1980s when I was using cassettes for a different purpose, making exploratory mix tapes. REM's Driver 8 (back when that was semi-alternative) rubbed shoulders with INXS "I Need You Tonight," Dinosaur Jr's "No Way Out," one of the Gang of Four's more political numbers and Pink Floyd's Brain Damage.

My favorite listening experience for about a year was this old early 1970s Led Zeppelin II cassette I found in a hidden compartment of a chest, next to some zigzag rolling papers. The tape was so phased out and muffled, it had this mysterious sense of coming in and out of consciousness. This particularly worked well with "What Is And What Should Never Be." Long story short, the tape ultimately broke and I never heard that tone on any CD of LedZep II, so the album lost my interest. The mechanically modulated variations, the running of tape and the variance of it as it aged––what I was experiencing was pure entropy. 

We can create so many sounds via technology but we cannot imitate the tension of purposeful activity and equally purposeful decay. 

About high school I began to formulate my musical tastes like a badge: Jimi Hendrix, Nothing's Shocking-era Jane's Addiction, Doors, REM, White Album-era Beatles. At the same time I was a member of the Oakland Youth Chorus and exposed to some of the deepest roots of soul that exist––performances with Bobby McFerrin, Jon Hendricks, and local luminaries of all cultures and ethnicities. Etta James at the Oakland Blues Festival blew my 16-year-old mind.  Almost anything jazz, world, blues, or soul I could get into. War's "The World Is A Ghetto" was a particular lp + speaker system favorite, as was Traffic's eponymous barnyard stomper. Catch A Fire paired with Harder They Come, rediscovered from my very early years in San Francisco. Stevie Wonder's Innervisions. Al Green. Curtis Mayfield. Leonard Cohen. Red Hot Chili Pepper's surprising new single, "Under The Bridge."  Etc. etc.

Crazy thing––I was having these path-to-enlightment musical experiences without herbal enhancers, even a sip of beer. Music just had a mighty powerful effect on the soul.**

*As 4HFlute listeners will remember, this is captured in my Tulumica audio collage. We spontaneously played "Stairway to Heaven" Jethro Tull style, with the water bottle coming into play as a drum at the climactic moment of release.

** The question begs to be asked, what was I listening to as I wrote this? Jimi Hendrix at Winterland, 1968 playing a 12 minute Are You Experienced with the mysterious flautist Virgil Gonsalves. Bob Dylan in Melbourne with a cruddy borrowed (ahem) folk guitar. A strident pre Tosh-Marley breakup Wailers at the Sundown in Edmonton, London, 1973 (fundraiser for Ethiopia), and now Miles' Pharaoh's Dance. 

I am resurrecting Testcut as a long term, ongoing hashtag novel concept.* Tweeted with no emendation at 4HFlute, then collected on the fb Testcut page. A book's worth of fractured sentences that will somehow fit together at the end. This is all very Bolano 'Antwerp,' I know.*

Here is the latest wild batch:

24.10 - Her actual words did not cut deepest. He was laughing and each snort went in like a wound.

24.9 - I rolled through the alphabet on my way to her number. Remembered I had rubbed it out.

24.8 The mystery was not what had brought him so far beyond. It was what he was going to do in this beyond place. ​

​24.7 I am out. I am in. It doesn't really matter because I am dead. Soft-sole crocodile shoes.... 

24.6 It was another summer, but this one, unlike the last two, was without Hermione.

24.5 I do solemly swear that you are fucked. But, I welcome the chance to watch you run...

24.4 - He muttered under his breath a lot. It was his way of not speaking.

24.3 One after another, they filed out. There was something presumptive in their telegenic rage.

24.2 I made it intentionally so. It was so you could see me.

24.1 - One more dip then I depart. Unless you pull the lever.

* The real concept was that these sentences could be viewed as part of a 3-D interactive map flow of a  literary work coming together. In this fabric, there would be literally thousands of versions of the plot to choose from and no "finished" version. Scholars could compare minute changes, flicking their arms like an arniss fighter in fast-forward, reverse mode. Word arrangements would flicker and glow. At one exact configuration of words, among 12.3 million possible, a universal truth would be shown. 

The next step will be to do this with a group of writers, with no identifying marks beyond mercurial hashtag.

#testcut @amwriting #endurancewriter #AriPark

​SEO Alert - Damon Shulenberger aka "shit endures"

This Al Jazeera profile of Duterte sent chills down my spine. The implication is that rule of law and due process may go by the wayside. Now values of transparency and are fairly weak in much of the Philippines and stories of police abuse manifold, but I do not know that they extend to "death squads," which bring back memories of the dark days of martial law.

I am not going to get on a high horse and suggest that you can effect change in a country as corrupt and inefficient as the Philippines easily. But to clean up corruption in the government in 3-6 months? That would take a declaration of martial law, because nearly everyone is implicated. I can easily see things spiraling out of control into grudge matches, with those aspects of the government system that work the inevitable collateral.

Maybe the democratic institutions of the Philippines are enough to keep a strong man contained and working to productively eliminate corruption. God knows that on time EMT response and quality medical care is a worthy aim. Zoom-in security cameras everywhere.? As any reader of Arisugawa Park can tell you, not my thing.

The issue of the rebels in Mindanao and Duterte's concept of quasi-autonomous federal states is one I wholeheartedly endorse. What is going on in Mindanao is all about resources, mining, and exploitation––not the strictly religious Muslim/Catholic schism, as it  is understood by many. It is no accident that the Canadian recently taken from a beach resort and beheaded was a mining company executive. 

My most recent fb comment: 

"Someone asked me why Poe instead of Duterte in the upcoming Philippine national election.

Because Grace Poe seems like she has practical aims that are not based on too much bias and hyperbole. And this is critical in rebalancing the system––which, if actually accomplished, will hurt a lot of butts used to living large. 

Duterte, there is no question he has been a very effective law enforcer. But this is completely different from assuring that money that belongs to the citizens is being used in the most productive, fair, and equitable way. 
By setting as an example someone who uses blunt force to get things done, you are setting the stage for authority abuse that could result in non-democratic tendencies coming to the fore. Especially at local levels, as leaders are influenced by the message from the top.

Democracy may be messy, but it is better than the alternative. I don't really think that someone who says he would have his son shot for using drugs, rather than speaking about rehabilitation and providing hope to youth through job creation programs is moving on the most positive track. 

Wikipedia says of Poe that her major aims are: "labor legislative agenda - more opportunities, skill development and growth for Filipino workers, employment security for the disabled and handicapped, and protection of workers in the informal sector. Specific policies she advocated in the course of her campaign include reviving the national elementary school lunch program."
​
I would rather have this type of practical agenda at the fore, than hyperbolic stories of cleaning up the gutter."

A couple days later than expected, here is Arisugawa Park - 1.12 Empathy. ​Kaori and Yuki connect and we realize the reason for the suburban Chiba detective's reluctance to call Steve's disappearance a routine case.  As usual, I have added quite a bit to the narrative, that previous generations of beta readers and publishing industry critics will not have come across. If you are not up to speed, feel free to read Arisugawa Park from the beginning. 

I will be posting the first Arisugawa Park podcast in a couple days. It ran on about 48 minutes and is me reading and rambling out loud, as I do a final edit of the section before posting. I'll post it at just the moment when readers are wanting a little new material, chomping at the bit for AP 1.13 - Unlucky Horse.

Pulling into a parking space across from Inagekaigan station, Kaori took the two blocks of tightly packed businesses at a hurried pace. She spotted the familiar neon GEON sign along a wide street fronted by a row of apartment complexes. Discretely vertical, the buildings were inset from the sidewalk and planted with trees––almost spacious at street level, they had restaurants, conbini, salons, and gyms folded into the first couple floors.

Kaori followed the cartoon posters of a boy and his dog promoting GEON through the automatic glass doors, up wide stairs to the second floor. Knocking, she peered through a semi-transparent wall at the small lobby. Yuki Sato came bustling out of the back room. A petite woman in her early twenties, there were hints of stylishness behind her mandated manager’s outfit––discreet blouse and dark blazer juxtaposed with a charcoal skirt that stopped just above the knees.     

The manager’s expression as she greeted Kaori jogged something––a shared moment of complicity the last time they had met. At the time, she had taken it as sympathy for putting up with an obvious asshole like Yamahito. Now she was not so sure––the same look, with no asshole in sight. 
​
Holding out a Manila envelope, Kaori let a warmer-than-intended smile slip. “Here’s the key to Jonathan’s apartment and an initial write up…. I know I promised it to you before lunch. Sumimasen.” 

Yuki accepted the envelope and gazed at her, distracted, not seeming to realize that an apology was being offered. “Ah…  I am just starting lunch break. I’ve been on an extended telephone call with main office. There are a lot of things to work out… our one o’clock cancelled and we don’t have any classes until 3pm.” 

Giving her best try at an empathetic smile, Kaori was surprised to find it closely aligned with how she actually felt. Who said that police interviews were impersonal? It was in the forming of connections that one moved toward truer words, revelation. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down for a few minutes, hear your impressions of Steve Loewe… anything at all that you can remember.”

Yuki nodded with a look of barely contained something. “I’ll make some tea.”

Five minutes later they settled into one of two small classrooms with cups of tea. The room was fairly standard eikaiwa issue––a whiteboard, books on the far wall by the window, a large table in the center, chairs placed evenly around it. Alphabet posters and cartoons lined the walls, illustrating common English mishaps. “It’s a fine day today” the blond surfer said, Sydney Opera House in the background, while a Japanese tourist, bowled over, repeated “A fine day to die?” Glancing back at Yuki, it occurred to Kaori that the GEON manager wanted this conversation as much as she did. 

“How long have you been working at GEON?” 

“Three months. I graduated from college last year.” 

“And Steve Loewe was here for––” 

“Just over a month. He came directly from California. He was taking a break from graduate studies to teach here, I think.” 

 “Since his disappearance, how have you been managing with lessons?”  
​
“We’ve had an area substitute teacher come out for the past couple days and Monday we will welcome a Mr. Bloom from Australia. Even if Steve did come back––he couldn’t really teach here again. He has let us all down.” 
“What kind of person was Mr. Loewe? I know it’s hard for us to judge––” Kaori caught herself from saying foreigners, “new teachers, but––”  

“He had a good way with kids, they liked learning with him. There weren’t any real complaints, you know, but when we have a new teacher we get all kinds of comments––it’s to be expected. Some of the students found his manner a little too….” 

Foreign, forward, rough, careless, human. Kaori filled in the blanks.“Did he have any friends?” 

“Yes, here at GEON we make every effort to ensure that new teachers feel at home. We held a welcome party for him and some of his students would join him at the izakaya from time to time––to drink and practice English. We encourage that at GEON, a forming of friendships between teachers and students well beyond the classroom walls. I feel like he had many friends.” Yuki gave her a slightly guilty look, as if worried that Kaori might consider lack of friends a critical aspect in his disappearance.  

“What about––did he have a girlfriend, here or back home?”  

“Well, I don’t know,” said Yuki, a little flustered. “I mean, he was good looking and you can imagine how some students get attracted to the idea of a foreign teacher. But I don’t really… I don’t think so.”

“Can you think of any reason why he might have left, any problems or personal issues he mentioned?” 

“My English is so poor, we never went much beyond simple greetings. I did think he was enjoying life in Japan. He seemed interested in our culture. But... maybe he felt alone. I would, if I came from another country. My superiors at main office seem to think he simply went off traveling––as I mentioned, Steve sent an email to his parents to that effect.”

There was something that had been bothering Kaori. “Surely quitting a job in a foreign location is a major decision…?” 

Yuki shook her head. “Running out on the job is more common than you might imagine. A significant number of foreign teachers don’t complete their first year’s contract at GEON. There are a lot of expectations, compared with what they are used to.” She shrugged, “Komokai desu. And then there is the social aspect––if you don’t have the right attitude, Japan can be a cold place.” 

Kaori was unconvinced and Yuki, to her credit, recognized it. “In our connected world, teaching jobs are.… not difficult to come by. We arranged a three-year visa for Steve. He can take a break, have a vacation somewhere, come back and find a new position within a matter of days. There are a limited number of long term visas allotted to foreign teachers….” Yuki paused, voice faltering, as if trying to convince herself as much as Kaori. “Anyway, the type of people who take teaching jobs with a shelf life of three years, no chance of promotion, are not the most stable.” 

That is what Corporate drummed in this morning, Kaori thought, taking a long sip of tea. Bitter at first, the sencha held a distinctly sweet afternote. She tried to feel out the right approach––there was more she could ask, more that Yuki could tell her, but she wasn’t sure how to tease it out. An official approach would not only be jarring, it might lead to word getting to GEON main office about their talk, and eventually to Yamahito––who had a made it clear that investigations undertaken on her own initiative, without consultation, constituted overreach and a serious waste of police resources. Cause for demerit, even. Setting down delicately glazed cup, Kaori savored the texture of earthy leaves, that last ultra-bitter sip. It was probably from the manager’s personal stash, an omiyagi or gift from rural family members.“This tea is really distinct, where is it from?” 

“My parents’ hometown, in Aomori.” No further explanation came, despite Kaori’s carefully extended look of interest.

“Personally speaking, what do you think happened?”  

Yuki’s eyes searched Kaori’s for a moment. She looked away, blinking back something. “I don’t know. I only hope Steve is safe. He was so new here, maybe he got into some trouble without knowing it….”  

Kaori nodded, encouraging Yuki to continue. No... something in her expression had shifted, she had gone as far as she was willing. “Thanks so much for your time,” said Kaori, a bit impatient despite herself. “Please call me if there is anything else at all you happen to remember.” She stood up and bowed crisply––she would give Yuki space, but they were not finished. Halfway out the door a thought occurred, “Would you happen to have any of Mr. Loewe’s personal materials, lesson plans and the like, that I can borrow?” 

Yuki considered for a moment then nodded. She darted into the classroom and came back with a notebook and a stack of loose papers. Kaori glanced at them: attendance forms, handouts of news articles, conversational scenarios. Steve’s handwriting seemed a little messy, matching the image she had formed of him at his apartment. She tidied the papers and brought them to her chest as she and Yuki exchanged parting bows.  

Walking out the automatic doors, Kaori thought back to that flare of emotion Yuki had displayed at her last question. There was that feeling, for the second time today––the same as she’d experienced leaving Steve Loewe’s apartment––that she was scratching the surface of something much deeper.

As she waited at the crosswalk facing the shopping district, train gates clanging with clockwork urgency, a tentative hand brushed her forearm. “Sumimasen. Were you thinking of getting lunch? I know a good place around here.”

Picture 1: From a collage scrapbook I started just after moving to Japan, a month before 9/11. They look like they could be advertising GEON, but they are ironically not advertising anything.

Picture 2: I didn't get a digital camera until 2005 and all my old Tokyo pics are in deep freeze storage in San Jo. Therefore, a Chiba-esque Tokyo scene. 

SEO Alert - EnduranceWriter aka Damon Shulenberger. 

For those who don't know it, the Philippines has its own version of Trump in ​Rodrigo Duterte. Such are the complexities of Pinoy society that the most obviously sexist, violent is also the most progressive in terms of cleaning up crime. As mayor of Davao, he took it from being arguably the most dangerous city (in fractious Mindanao) to the safest and most well-ordered.

He reminds me a lot of Yamahito in Arisugawa Park, or Jack Bauer in 24, and I would not want to piss him off. At the same time, what is he going to do about pork barrel? Does he give a shit about sustainability, the environment? I hear he is rabidly pro mining, which is not a great sign for those concerned about the planet. (Here in Dumaguete they have an internationally funded geothermal plant right in the hills above town––yet they get all their power from a cheaper, dirty coal plant in Cebu). And oh yeah, this relatively livable town of 120,000 has as much smoke (burn plastic? okay) and smog (tricycle utopia) as a city of a couple million in the States. 

Here (unedited) is a recently making the rounds rationale for Duterte's alleged rape joke about an Australian missionary killed in a botched kidnapping rescue––explaining the context in which it was made:*

"basically the full video is about the hostage taking happened in davao,1989. duterte wanted to negotiate the kidnapper but the soldiers managed underby pres cory aquino didnt let him. so he couldnt do anything. soldiers resbacked at the area early without duterte's presence.left the hostages dead including the australian lady.
​
the hostages was wrapped. when duterte came, a kid died in front of him. he opened another dead hostage and saw an australian white lady. these brought duterte's extreme anger. he was so angry; she was so beautiful; the mayor should have been first. if he should have been first this wouldnt led to australian's death.

he said if he should have been early & if they allowed him to enter the hostage area, he would negotiate the kidnapper, then this wouldnt happen. he could have save them. because of his anger he took the machine gun, and shot each of the kidnappers. the soldiers asked we need coffins for them but duterte refused a coffin.he said dig only 1 hole at public cemetary and 'burry all kidnappers in 1 hole before they go to hell'.

this wasnt the first hostage taking in davao with these kidnappers. before the above incident, there was also another 'kidnapping case by this group'. pres cory phone up duterte and asked duterte's help. duterte sacrifice himself, went to the area himself and talk to these kidnappers. he managed to free the hostages but offered himself to be kidnapped instead.

but that time (second time) (incident when there was australian kidnapped) the president cory wouldnt let him negotiate and he don't understand why?

all these incidents was reported on the media before."

If this represents the truth, then the question of personally machine gunning the kidnappers without due process of the law raises  troubling questions. There are already rumors of "Dirty Harry" going up in helicopters while Mayor of Davao and dropping accused drug dealers out alive.

On the other hand, my old friend Lalaine had this to say, "Duterte is the peoples choice. first running president that is requested by filipinos. he is in action. he will get rid the crocodiles in the government i hope. filipinos wanted change in my country. those other 3 presidential candidates are supported by chinese business man cojuanco & aquino. very corrupt."

To say that the Phils is corrupt is an understatement: In the last month alone, there has been the matter of the Macau-Manila casino/bank Internet heist of $80 million in Bangladeshi gov funds. 

That said, there must be a better alternatives for cleaning out the "pork barrel" than a violence-steeped strongman. I hear one option is the reform-minded, untainted Grace Poe. Oh wait, she may be a U.S. citizen (she definitely owns property there), pull out the reverse "birther brigades." And wait wait... she may be under Cojuanco and a secret ally of Aquino. "Grace, roxas, binay very good platform but only talking no action, same thing happen in the past."

'Tis politics, after all.

*I had this to say on fb a week ago: "'The video of Duterte's comment, made at a recent rally...' that is all that needs to be said on the subject. If it was 30 years ago and he had significantly changed his way of thinking about women... maybe... I cannot believe this guy is a candidate for highest office in the Philippines."

** The verdict is out on the original hostage situation. Disturbingly, it appears that the "rape" comments date back a couple decades. Though if we are to believe the viral fb post, Duterte's meaning was other than how most Filipinos interpreted it.  What is clear is that Duterte issued a "shoot-to-kill order” of the kidnappers, claiming they were armed with machine guns (no one lived to refute that), and his group gunned them down on the spot.

The recent solo one is a meditation... Three Flutes and one Bamboo Stick. I think you will like it... that is the more flute-centric evolution... theme is how nature, receptive ears are everywhere. Even in the so-called city.... It is also best wishes, don't give up the fight to a lot of people whose lives are evolving.
Earth Day I spent on stage in Valencia at Forest Camp with Chuck Vicuña and the Igoroots band. I think we caught an authentic slice of that on Youtube, playing "Hagpat":
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYvt_TylYN8&feature=youtu.be
At first listen, the flute can almost not be heard, But it was fine in the monitors which means that the band members could hear it and I hear it in its absence. 
From my perspective: it is influencing the others and being influenced by their energy.* In this way it affects the other musicians and the sounds we play. This was truly interplanetary jamming.
Now listening back to the full 1:20 minute recording of the concert. Insane. The quality is much better, still can't hear my flute well. Hm... but audience members said they could. That is enough.

I understand why certain musicians would record a lot... Jimi, Jerry, Prince... listening back gives you new ideas for future flows.
*For an example of the influencing, see around 3:35, toward the end of the guitar solo, an intermittent beep-beep begins. That is me on the percussive end of the flute. And the djimbe picks up on that and pretty soon we are in tandem, evolving the beat. This leads to a steady, quick lipped rhythm that allows me to play with the lead singer, who is stomping and drumming and shaking his dreads. These guys all come from the same tribe up toward Baguio, the Igo. The work down in Dumaguete as successful professionals. Reminds me of my cousins in Raleigh in a way, the original Jazz Bros +1.
‪#‎4HFlute‬ ‪#‎endurancewriter‬

I'm giving myself a strict four hour deadline to get Arisugawa Park 1.12 - "Empathy" up... I've been promising it too long.

This section is the first between Kaori and Yuki, the book's two female characters in their early to late 20s (I was about that age when I started the book). It has been a fun and challenging section to edit. I was satisfied with the result the first time around, it was one of those that I always breezed through rereading.

That said, when I dug in I found a lot of shoddy wiring. Now that I really know who these characters are, I can tell everything with more conviction. Shadow boxing with who they later become.

In related news, I am working on a short audio accompaniment to 2.12. An Arisugawa Park podcast, if you will. This will be for après-read consumption, while waiting for the next section to take shape.** My own candid thoughts, wherever they lead. I am aiming for a dozen or two of these AP Podcasts over the course of this laying onto you of an extended cloud novel of Japan. 

*葛飾応為 Katsushika Oi - Old friend and fellow blogger Miwako laid on this painting by Hokusai's daughter from the Menard Art Museum in Aichi. It reminds me a bit of Yuki, a few generations transposed. 

​** For now the podcast will be on Soundcloud, while I figure out the steps necessary to make it go live on Apple Music. 

The recent solo one is a meditation... Three Flutes and one Bamboo Stick. I think you will like it... that is the more flute-centric evolution... theme is how nature, receptive ears are everywhere. Even in the so-called city.... It is also best wishes, don't give up the fight to a lot of people whose lives are evolving.

Earth Day I spent on stage in Valencia at Forest Camp with Chuck Vicuña and the Igoroots band. I think we caught an authentic slice of that on Youtube, playing "Hagpat." At first listen, the flute can almost not be heard, But it was fine in the monitors which means that the band members could hear it and I hear it in its absence. 

From my perspective: it is influencing the others and being influenced by their energy.* In this way it affects the other musicians and the sounds we play. This was truly interplanetary jamming.

Now listening back to the full 1:20 minute recording of the concert. Insane. The quality is much better, still can't hear my flute well. But audience members said they could. That is enough.

I understand why certain musicians would record a lot... Jimi, Jerry, Prince (RIP)... listening back gives you new ideas for future flows.

And where is the next section of Arisugawa Park? Less than a day away. A lot of realizations about the novel and story arc today, watching ships go by on the dock in Dumaguete.

*For an example of the influencing, see around 3:35, toward the end of the guitar solo, an intermittent beep-beep begins. That is me on the percussive end of the flute. And the djimbe picks up on that and pretty soon we are in tandem, evolving the beat. This leads to a steady, quick lipped rhythm that allows me to play with the lead singer, who is stomping and drumming and shaking his dreads. These guys all come from the same tribe up in Baguio, the Igo. The work down in Dumaguete as  professionals. Reminds me of my cousins in Raleigh in a way, Peter Lamb and Paul Rogers, the original Jazz Bros.

SEO Alert - Damon Shulenberger aka EnduranceWriter - 4HFlute - still chasing the sun.

Bamboo flute and Negros Oriental adventures (just saw the world's largest pigeons, native to Papua New Guinea) notwithstanding, my focus is steadily shifting to Arisugawa Park. When 1,000 views arise out of the ether, I know I am onto something. Gradually, a few regular readers interested in seeing where the "deep Kanto" narrative wends seem to have emerged.

The editing process has really got me stretching. I am not the same person I was five or 10 years ago, and want the narrative to reflect that. I am also free from the impetus of finding an agent or conforming to publishing industry expectations concerning length, title, or style. Freedom in the groove.

The next section Ari Park 1.12 - Empathy will depict Chiba detective Kaori's first meeting with GEON manager Yuki. It has required a lot of finessing. Completely different interpersonal dynamics (not to mention ages, sex) from the section preceding. Which is why I never get bored. 

​#endurancewriter

Facebook just reminded me that it has been a year since I was camping on the beach in Tulum on the Yucatan Peninsula and getting serious (i.e. jamming) with the tribal flute. I think I have come a long way, baby. Here for your listening pleasure, my latest excursion. This begins with the self-made bamboo stick and shaker combo and continues with my three main squeezes. Bamboo flutes by Raul, Jin, and Oliver respectively. 

I'm now thinking about putting all those flute photos and recordings into a little photo essay that will revisit some of the crazier moments traveling with a flute, create a coherent explanation of what I am trying to do (other than stay high on life) with the ongoing Chasing the Sun project.

Curious how this ties in with the literary project, Arisugawa Park? I explained that a couple posts ago and put up the spoken word piece  #4HFlute