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Jonny Greenwood is in Marche / Italy!

www.thelakeradio.com

''What is this hole

That feeds on all

Good, strong and potent

And turns it into

Dead, weak and hollow?''

                The poet dropped his pen and walked to the window in his study room. Weakness had overtaken him and swallowed him and his desperate attempt to write it out, and thus eliminating it, was vain. The black hole in his soul was all he knew at this moment; place with no hope, no future, no love.

                What is the point? Life has turned out harder than he ever imagined, people far too hard to comprehend and relate to, love far too fleeting to trust and fight for. All the voices in his mind begged, fought and strived to tell him to give in, give up, let go and jump off the edge into a restful, eternal sleep where no pain resides. But it would be selfish…

                What about the people he loved? No, too vague… what about her? Would it not hurt her? Would she not suffer? Here the voices painted a picture with her as the main character and what a happy life she would lead without him in the frame; a life fulfilled, with a good husband, happy children and a sparkling future. He was filled with joy when he saw her smile, the sense of relief, fulfilment and happiness were there when her lips moved in a upward pose, when her eyes spoke more than all the words he ever wrote could. But the feeling of loneliness was undeniable, for he wanted to be there with her…to be her husband, to be her lover and life-long companion, to share the sense of happiness and fulfilment, the sparkling future, the beautiful children…

                The voices won. He started to believe them. Maybe she doesn’t need him…

                He sat down on his chair, his body weak and powerless, his head dark and gloomy, his soul on life support which was rapidly fleeting. He looked to the ceiling and let the voices destroy him, like an army charging a defenceless city, the soldiers killing everyone in their path and burning all the buildings in their way. The darkness grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. It felt like his body was giving in, preparing to shut off and rest after such an exhausting fight.

                Suddenly he heard steps in his tastefully decorated study, clear and determined steps walking around the liquor cabinet. He lowered his head the view the intruder and saw a sight most people would find terrifying but he grew accustomed to. A man was pouring himself a drink, a man mixed with only two colours; black and white. His black and white coat was split down the middle, going down his spine, the coat reaching to his knees. The left side was white, the right black, but his trousers were mirror-imaged; the right leg was white, the left one black. This mirroring was happening throughout the entirety of his attire and his skin. The shoes were mirror-imaged to his trousers, his hair split down the middle, the same way as his coat; the left side of the back of his head (he was facing away from the poet) was filled with semi-long black hair, the right side with black. The belt which was over the coat was mirror-imaged to the coat and thus became completely visible. His left hand was black with white fingernails and white veins protruding under his skin.

                The man finally faced the poet, revealing his mesmerizing face which was a puzzle of white and black pieces.  Left side of the face was white with black details; all the wrinkles which appeared by his facial mimicry possessed the opposite colour of his skin, so on the left side all the wrinkles were black. So were half of the lips split down the middle, the eyebrow, eyelashes and the whites of the eyes were black on the left side. The pupils were all white and perfectly reflected off the black surface. All of this was mirrored on the right side.

                Under the coat a shirt was visible, a shirt decorated with fine lacework (of course in black and white) and behind a coat a sword. He turned to the poet and smiled, revealing his black and white teeth, perfectly mirror imaged.

                “Oh hello, Maurits. I must be sleeping” the poet said softly, again dropping his head back and starring back at the ceiling.

                “Where else would I reside, if not for your head?” His voice was deep and slightly raspy, with a strange mixture of menace and comfort that coloured it. In his left hand he held a purely white cigarette which produced white smoke, in his right hand he had a clear glass challis filled with a black liquid. His posture was slightly hunchbacked but barely noticeable, his demeanour was witty, poetic and sarcastic but always straight-forward, like an old shaman who spoke only in riddles but sometimes revealed a clear and precise, wise message.

                “I’ve really fallen low now, haven’t I? All these thoughts are so damaging…”

                “They are only natural. For you, anyways… with your early childhood sense of abandonment and alienation, the sense of isolation due to your unique brain chemistry. Only natural, my dear Vlad.” He tipped his glass as a salute and drank a small amount of the pitch black liquid, followed by a smoke from the white cigarette.

                “My name is not Vlad, why do you keep referring to me as such?” The poets’ head never moved, remaining in the upward position, starring at the ceiling.

                “Oh just a personal joke, don’t mind it. You don’t really believe those voices.”

                The sudden jump from small talk to the main issue was expected from Maurits, he was never the one who would entertain you with trivial facts or satisfy your ignorance by exhibiting polite manners. The poets head dropped down and took a long stare at the black and white face which was here to resolve his traumas. It was true what he said, but still he wanted to enquire.

                “How so?”

                “Well you would have already jumped if you really lost all faith. The love you feel is still more powerful than the self-destruction your damaged self asks for. You know full well that she loves you. You needn’t any further proof.”

                “It’s true… then why? Why do these thoughts linger on? Is there no healing for this, no medicine, no way of killing the side of me which seeks to kill me?”

                The poet noticed the mirrored veins in the sides of the eyes, he saw them looking in him deep down inside to the core of his being. The feeling was just like everything else with this man; a mixture between dread and comfort, the sense of complete vulnerability, fear and acceptance.

                “It began as a form of self-protection, an attempt at self-preservation; distance became your sanctuary in which you resided for a long continuum of your young life. Your cynical view of connectivity and intimacy was protecting your from further shattering of the glass statue of your soul which couldn’t take another blow. In truth you weren’t cynical, just deeply wounded by bitter experiences which your sensitive self has a problem comprehending and accepting. The world in your mind is greater than the one you live in.”

                “That is not an answer to my question. Is there a way of mending these wounds?”

                Maurits smiled, revealing his black and white teeth, perfectly mirrored, deeply enticing and slightly terrifying. “You know full well what people deeply search for, every one of them. It’s evident that you do, you are a poet, for love’s sake. By the mere realization that you are the universe experiencing itself, the entirety of everything having an existential crisis, you already know what this being is guiding towards…the well of infinite inspiration, deep satisfaction and undeniable meaning. In the waters of this infinitum you not only heal, but prosper, grow and evolve.”

                The poets’ gaze was fixated on one point on the desk, not because of a particular quality or a point of interest on it, but because of the place in his mind and the deep thought he was engulfed in. He opened his mouth to speak but before a single sound came out of his throat, Maurits interfered:

                “Of course not, darling! You need conformation just like everyone else. Look… yes the love comes from you, its nest is in you, but you only have the seeds of it, the growth can only come from another human being. Just think about all these words which clarify complex emotions; jealousy, apathy, guilt, loneliness, empathy, affection, sympathy, acceptance… most of these words and emotions themselves would not exist if you were the only human on the planet! The doubts that surface in your damaged little mind are quite normal considering the past events, they are not indicators of troubles or a lack of connection, but a sign of how deep that affection, love, empathy, care and connectedness is and how much it means to you! Both!”

                “So…it’s not neediness? Is it not selfish?” The poets’ voice indicated vulnerability, the wounded child inside surfaced with the words and revealed the scars within. Maurits again smiled:

                “It would be if the need was stemmed in selfish desire. If you needed to hear the love expressed just for you to feel good about yourself or to gain some self-importance, then it would not only be needy but disgusting and blasphemously evil. You need to hear it in order to express it, it gives you allowance to say it. Complex it may sound but let me clarify.”

                He sat down near the window, gazing outside on the busy city below and far ahead. “You feel profoundly and deeply, you have allowed yourself to, you let her inside to see the true you because you feel deeply and profoundly enough to do so. Your artistic sense which stems from the sensitivity also wants to express it and it drives your inspiration and idea formation, your rational mind is working in synchrony with the emotional and thus producing intensely and expressing purely and honestly. You need to know it will be received because it is meant not for generality, but for one person, for her! The doubts have made you fear that the expression of your affection would drive her away, which is kind of the definition of stupidity, but never mind that. You are asking to confirm that your love can be expressed and you want to make sure it’s coming from both sides in equal measures.” He paused and turned to look the poet in the eyes, a childlike, happy smile on his face. “Quite normal.”

                The poet smiled slightly with a sense of relief but still a slight worry, which didn’t go unnoticed and Maurits did not leave it be. “Of course you fear loss, everyone does, the vulnerability of things, their mortality is the engine and fuel of intimacy. Knowing that both of you will die one day and knowing, in rational terms, that will be the end of love is the driving force of this profound feeling. Naturally it’s not the only thing, you share much in common and vibrate on a very similar if not often the same frequency, but the fact that you know you will die makes it holy. Life is only beautiful because of death. White is only bright because of black.”

                Maurits paused and smiled mischievously, like the grandfather who is about to reveal a grand secret to the young boy. His head lowered, looking at the ground, he approached the poet and said in a lower and quieter voice: “There is a way of making sure the love constantly grows... Keep discovering, keep exploring, keep experimenting and keep sharing, save no thought for yourself because there is nothing wrong with any of them, I can assure you of that in the larger scale, the scale you feel but can’t explain. Keep dwelling on philosophy and psychology, keep exploring art and the world, keep experimenting in lifestyle, keep enriching your senses in your everyday life and share every experience. You will not only feel vital in doing these things, but you will feel joyful and completely and utterly in love by sharing it with someone who understands and appreciates.” He whispered: “That’s the secret.”

I’m weeping tears of blood from my vagina

for the loss of my unfertilized egg.

It's been about five days since your passing on from this existence. I have gone through many emotions since hearing the news of your suicide. I have demons of depression myself. I have been taking medication for 20 years now. I have never once regretted that decision. What bothers me the most about your passing, is that you either couldn't or didn't want to find a lifeline. I sometimes think I would have rather you broke your sobriety, rather than to have you die with it, if that's what kept you from ending your life..... I keep wondering if any of the techniques that I use to deal with incredible sadness, would have worked with you. I know I need, crave, can't live without sunshine. It really does boost the serotonin level. I sometimes like to soak in a tub of sea-salts, lavender and chamomile oil. It helps to soak the toxins out of your body and allows you to numb out and relax for a minute. It stops the endless chatter in your head from thoughts of self demise and emptiness. I also like to drink a nice tea with a little sugar or honey, the caffeine helps to give me a little boost. I love the ocean and sometimes in my mind I like to visit the beach or look at pics I've taken of the beach. The constant flow of the waves in and out, in and out, is so refreshing and I pretend with the waves that when they go out, out goes my pain. When the waves come in, in comes health, newness and life. I would have liked to have been there for you, or would have liked that someone may have been there for you when you made your final decision. I know that when I have held the bottle, the pills, the knife, the gun, the ledge, whatever... I came very close to ending my life. Each time though, I would stop, breathe in deep, pray to the God of my understanding, listen for His voice, and ultimately in that moment find a sense of peace and warmth. It was as though God was holding me in His arms and saying to me, "not now Jean". I hear the words "you are not alone, I hear your pain, I will get you through this, have faith in Me and yourself". If you were my friend Mr. Williams, I would have not let you down. I would have run the sea-salt bath myself. I would have even jumped in and held you. I would have taken you by the hand and lead you outside away from the dark room with the blinds and curtains drawn. I would have made you that cup of tea and helped you drink it if you needed. I know you were tired, I know you had barely enough strength to breathe.....I am so sorry.  I will keep you alive in my heart Mr. Williams. Your work on this earth was so appreciated. You gave so many of us smiles, laughter, tears, joy, and even in your personal life, I hear you were a gentle and kind spirit. I have decided to let you go tonight. This week has been a real challenge for me personally. I am reminded of how life was for me and I am reminded of how life is for me now.  My heart aches for all of us who suffer from mental illness or bouts of depression. I pray for all of us to find peace here and now, not just in the afterlife....Rest In Peace Mr. Robin Williams.

YOU CLAIMED YET ANOTHER LIFE! I hate you. I abhor you. You suck the fucking life out of the most talented, sensitive, beautiful people. I kill you every day you son of a bitch. I did not let you kill me yesterday. I did not let you kill me today. I will not let you kill me tomorrow! I will take my medicine and live without having the "edge". I fought you for 35 years. I wanted to die, to kill the pain for 35 years. You lose you mother fucking son of a bitch. DEPRESSION IS A VERY REAL ILLNESS! Isn't it time we take the shame and the stigma away. Isn't it time we face what our physical and mental environment has done to us. Fake additives, fake colors, fake flavors, polluted water, polluted air, polluted oceans. We want to know why people are going off on each other? We want to know why we have mass murderers? We want to know why some of the most talented entertainers, intellectuals, philosophers are dying too fucking young?  We are being poisoned to death. Rest in peace Mr. Robin Williams and other millions of people who fight the fucking demon of depression till the day we die!

Wishing Witch

My Halloween screenplay is funny as can be
It’s funny how witchcraft is what we need to see

Brewing up trouble with all your classmates
The teacher will get angry, make no mistake

Crazy riddles from a child can be so scary
Being her classmate leaves you feeling wary

You may start a princess and end as a boar
As her riddles will leave you in an uproar

Will you return to normal after all this nonsense
Is the question that has everyone in suspense

You may not have believed in the paranormal
But you will start to see the proof is abysmal

Trick-or-treating can be more than a trick
As Jenny needs to get out of this fix

Laughter that gets you jumping off your seat
This screenplay is hilarious, that you’ll see

So if you’re looking for some trouble
To get you out of your bubble
Go to the site, quick and on the double

By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : http://youtu.be/XBmxebcXT0c

we're so young and so lost. your silence
within the screams of the trees, my silence on the
dusk. would be happy if I could tell you: come,
let's run away holding hands, love.

noise_jam's photo on Instagram [X]

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There Will Be Blood live at the London Roundhouse 06/08/14

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Jonny at Roundhouse (6 August) 

“A real privilege to have exclusive access to shoot Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood with the LCO last night for the world premiere of There Will be Blood
(picture by Edu Hawkins: www.eduhawkins.co.uk)”
- Edu Hawkins on facebook
https://www.facebook.com/EduHawkins/photos/a.10152154039024242.1073741827.169750789241/10152564165164242/?type=1

for more see http://goo.gl/HDuybI (Getty Images)

(*thanks to http://ripley312.tumblr.com ) 

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“Jonny Greenwood after the concert at tonight’s Roundhouse performing There Will Be Blood live. He was very nice to the few fans who asked him for photos.”　
- elfyz's photo on Tumblr 
http://elfyz.tumblr.com/post/94107424454 

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“My programme for tonight’s show. Jonny Greenwood said “I am not good at that”. He managed to sign it after the third attempt.” 
- elfyz's photo on Tumblr 
http://elfyz.tumblr.com/post/94107113299

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There Will Be Blood, Jonny Greenwood and the London Contemporary Orchestra, Camden Roundhouse, gig review | The Independent [X] 

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[Storify] There Will Be Blood - Live (with images, tweets) · lcorchestra [X]

Jonny Greenwood and the London Contemporary Orchestra at Roundhouse, 6 August 
A Social Media Story storified by London Contemporary Orchestra 

In Pictures: There Will Be Blood Live - Roundhouse [X] 

Broken Souls

I talk to producers of books and screenplays
My tormented farm life strayed my way

Strict sheltered home and harsh realities
Today’s modern world and mental tragedies

Constantly under pressure, was pure and healthy
I find I was repressed by everything I’d see

Never exposed to the world most know
By turning on t.v and watching a show

The day finally came, I had to leave home
To the hard tough world, I felt so alone

This blanket of comfort, unbeknownst to me
Left me asking for an angel to help guide me

We need guidance for our mental well -being
Let politicians and Parents learn the true meaning

The book is a true story all about me
Put into screenplay for the world to see

By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
At: http://youtu.be/_vqj8Sts5wY

Dear Radiohead, 

Please use your power, use your influence, stand up for the elephants to the music industry!  
Thank you, all my heart!   <3

*** Meanwhile, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is considering a proposed rule to close loopholes in federal law on the import of ivory, but it’s facing heat from the trophy hunting and gun lobbies, and from the MUSIC and antique industries, which still want to sell items with ivory on them. Amazing to think we’d jeopardize the fate of the largest land mammal in the world just so that someone gets an opportunity to resell a gun or a guitar with a little ivory on it. Where is the sense of broader responsibility and other-centeredness in people? ***

Resell older items containing ivory will have to be regulated and certified very specifically. Urge music industry to step up and take stance to compromise for greater goal!


http://www.hsi.org/news/news/2014/08/nj-ivory-ban-blog-pacelle-080614.html?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=posts&utm_campaign=Wildlife2014






http://www.hsi.org/news/news/2014/08/nj-ivory-ban-blog-pacelle-080614.html?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=posts&utm_campaign=Wildlife2014

The Warmth Of Homemade

Cooking, freezing, and raspberry jam
Beef stew, salmon pie, and egg rolls out of ham

Quick party foods and a hunters breakfast
Castle cake, feather bed, and little trees for Christmas

Cakes of Dolphin, Smurf, and Muno too
Butterfly, Barbie Doll with thousands of views

Baby items, aprons, and dresses to sew
You can make your own maple syrup, you know

Wreaths, snowmen, and Christmas logs are a craft
Helping toddlers make bird food is always a laugh

Peanut butter, sugar, and chocolate chip cookies
Banana oatmeal, no bake, and centerpiece of crispys

Deer meat lasagna and savory stuffed shells
Leftover turkey meal with stuff off your shelves

Pumpkin carving, candy apples, and nature hunt fun
Accessories for creative cakes and rolls of cinnamon

Game night quesadillas and wraps too
More is in store and waiting for you

By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
At: https://www.youtube.com/user/Dorisanne13

http://www.spiritscienceandmetaphysics.com/denver-murder-rate-cut-in-half-after-marijuana-legalization-coincidence/

Время идет, а лучше не становится.
Все заметили?

READ ALL ABOUT IT

Stories all of 100 years old
Bribery And Blackmail
They have to be retold

Definitions of words have surely changed
as Kilts And Reefers are now explained.

Two Kinds Of Success stories
That Work Both Ways
Stealing From Cities
and the Faithful Toby way

No Poison In The Wallpaper
is History Rewritten
With A Humble Helper
and Powerful Competition

Like a Scene In A Play
The Counterpane Got Smutty
He Raised The Bid today
was a story so funny

Striking A Light was crazy amazing
but Obeying The Order became disgracing

Drunk Pennies Justice
is a true story indeed
Like A Woodpecker’s Justice
and Another Pair Of Sleeves

Wakening In The Forest
while Lost In The Fog
and a Costly Breakfast
for you and your dog

We learn of Unreasonable Anger
and How Best To Prepare
The story of Tree Planters
and Village Gossip between pairs

Stories of over a hundred years
Let us watch them all right here
With many bringing you to tears
Taking you back through the years

By:
Doris Anne Beaulieu
At: https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xPmR8j4plw

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via maryanne hobbs on twitter (31 July)
http://twitter.com/maryannehobbs

“interviewing @philipselway (@radiohead ) now for @BBC6Music Weekend Breakfast show.. have you for a burning question for him?”

“Thanks for your Philip Selway questions.
And the answers are ….”

(“@maryannehobbs @bbc6music @philipselway @radiohead Your inspiration to drum”http://twitter.com/SomeFilmmaker/status/494806536624304128 )

“Philip Selway: “The first drummer I was in to was Stewart Copeland - but I still haven’t mastered his technique””

“Philip Selway: “If I could be one drummer it would be Mitch Mitchell. Incredible. He had it all there.””

(“@maryannehobbs @philipselway @radiohead @BBC6Music if Philip hadn’t ever been part of Radiohead, which band would he be in & remembered for?”) 
http://twitter.com/randomly_rabbit/status/494767323614425089

“Philip Selway: “I would have liked to have been in Blur for their live shows. The energy of those …””

“Philip Selway: “I would also have loved to have been part of Talking Heads, Public Enemy or The Band! But Radiohead were pretty good””

(“@maryannehobbs @BBC6Music @philipselway @radiohead Any plans to collaborate again with Neil Finn?”) 
http://twitter.com/swmarland/status/494777068886839298

“Philip Selway: “No plans to collaborate again with Neil Finn but it was an incredible experience. An amazing generous, funny, calm man.””

(“@maryannehobbs @philipselway @radiohead @BBC6Music I’d like to know what he is up to at the moment, in term of drumming techniques :)”) 
http://twitter.com/NowoneElz/status/494813226983772160

“Philip Selway: “Technique and my drumming - they are two concepts that don’t really go together.””

“Philip Selway: “Key to drumming is to listen + be musical. If you’re concerned about chops when playing you’re not doing the song favours.””

(“@maryannehobbs @bbc6music @philipselway @radiohead Favourite Radiohead album and why?”) 
http://twitter.com/SomeFilmmaker/status/494805941695840256

“Philip Selway: “Fave Radiohead LP? OK Computer because I’ve got so many vivid memories. And In Rainbows, which drew on all we’d learnt.””

(“@maryannehobbs @philipselway @radiohead @BBC6Music What did you have for your tea last night? Or Radiohead new stuff….. when?”) 
http://twitter.com/basestacking/status/494814652883533824

“Philip Selway: “For my tea I had something Gluten-free.””

“@philipselway thank you for coming to MCR today.. i enjoyed our conversation so much :) v. excited to play it out on @BBC6Music m/a..x”

“Philip has left the building.

…. Full interview on childhood, Radiohead, + his singing career will air Aug 30 + 31”

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Find more photos like this on w.a.s.t.e. central

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*“Images: rabbitinmyheadlights.tumblr.com”.. it's my blog on Tumblr! XD 

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New Future Of The Internet

Cable cost are up too high
You turned to the internet and so have I

My Youtube channel is the way to go
Now I can even make video shows

I group the videos to make a show
To bring you the best of where I go

For kids the mower and stove videos
I also have vehicles and some scarecrows

Kids can watch from morn til night
with lots of things for a kids delight

Light houses, ship building, and horses too
Antique barn yards and tractor pulls just for you

Aviation, taxidermy, and crafty wood works
Viewwithme Youtube has all the quirks

The historical homes make a great tour
Contest and oxen pulls are never a bore

Animal friends, I haven’t forgotten you
I have horses, dogs, cows and sheep too

Plenty of petting pens and milking for you
And a simple click is all you have to do

A lot of shows with a mix for all
Like demolition derby or a stunt so tall

So if you dropped the cable and you have a need
I have three channels for you to see

By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme

http://www.trueactivist.com/which-dictator-killed-the-most-people/