SONG OF THE DAY: Rain and Snow

I am not sure there’s a more perfect song ever recorded. This dude’s wailing singing is just beyond reproach. It is like a full moon over snowy expanse, etched into vinyl. Just perfect.

SONG OF THE DAY: A Raving Night (Flemming Dalum and Steen Gjerulff Remix)

“Italo-disco” is the ironic cop mustache of $16 omelets with artisanal bacon and avocado, usually wearing a $75 Nascar t-shirt where they can’t even name 3 of the races. As always, fuck Sturgill Simpson.

SONG OF THE DAY: My Key Don't Fit

Is this a euphemism? (Everything is. Always.)

SONG OF THE DAY: Del Barrio Pal Barrio (kudzu'd)

I love slowed music. I love screwed music as DJ Screw did and I love cumbia rebajadas as Sonido Dueñez did in Monterrey. And as a 45 collector (lol, what a horrible fate), there’s been a notable rise in indy labels putting out cumbia music that’s new, and with a rebajada sound to it. BUT GUESS WHAT? I’m still gonna play your fuckin’ 45 slow. So this is double rebajada I guess. Fuck it. The slower the better. Humans be moving way too damned fast. The Earth don’t spin that fast. Takes a whole day to spin once, and a full goddamn year to get all the way around our little space. So all this “rise and grind” or “hustle and grind” shit misses me. I was meant to laze about, with berry stains in my beard.

SONG OF THE DAY: Dirty Work

What an amazingly catchy fuckin’ song. This shit is beyond ear worm; like it bores down into your soul and you’re just walking to go put the clean clothes from the washer into the dryer and this shit starts singing from deep inside of you, and there’s nothing you can do but sing it. It’s annoying. MK-Ultra ass bullshit.

SONG OF THE DAY: 'Neath That Cold Grey Tomb of Stone

My attempt at learning banjo fizzled after finger rolling style was just too damn hard. I think I might take another shot at clawhammer style, but because I’ve never been able to learn an instrument, I feel like a failure. My youngest kid has gotten the hang of guitar though, self-taught and doing pretty damn well with it. Maybe I was just missing something in my brain to get it right, I don’t know.

SONG OF THE DAY: Good Things

About once every 3 years, I want to shave my beard off, completely. It’s usually a sign that the vibes are off and there’s an itch to my soul I need to fix. There’s too many good things in life for the vibes to off.

haiku spike drop - January 6, 2025

I began posting new haiku spikes on my Patreon, with the story behind them. It is a free post for all followers of the Patreon, so you don't have to be a paying subscriber to read it. You can scope that new post out here.
And as a reminder, scope out my Dirtgod Illegitimate Artz Emporium, where you can actually get the spikes. I also accept off-the-grid venmo/cashapp/cash for them as well (naturally).

SONG OF THE DAY: Ev'ry Soul Is There

Americana music can be a hit or miss type thing. Wide swaths of it feel more hipster-oriented, like wealth adjacent folks cosplaying as old school country in vintage outfits more than authentic music. Don’t even get me started on my disdain for Sturgill Simpson, and his son-of-an-Appalachian-narcotics-officer bullshit. Whatever credibility anybody out there wants to explain to me he has is automatically negated by the aforementioned familial fact about him and him wearing a goddamn cop mustache. Wack with a capital ack. Usually my personal litmus test for Americana music is whether it would jibe with the longhaired redneck crowd… those country ass dudes who are too outlaw to even bother telling you about it, because honestly, they don’t want anyone bothering them about their shit. They are like 1%ers without motorcycles, nor the means to afford a nice Harley, much less all the material accouterments that go with that. It’s a 1%er outlaw club that drives whatever the fuck is still running and has gas in it, so they might be in an ’87 Dodge Ram one day, then an old Ford Escort stationwagon with a trash bag window on the passenger side the next, and then you see them on Friday night at the liquor store and they’re driving a fairly decent Firebird somehow. This is pretty much my dad and all his closest conspirators of FTW that I saw back in the day growing up. Malcolm Holcombe always felt completely in that crowd, like he’d be totally comfortable sitting at the kitchen table smoking a bowl with those dudes. I have loved his music for a while, and he was that refreshing actual outlaw rural voice that was tolerant of the things you’d hope one was tolerant about (folks’ sexual identity, who they wanted to fuck or how they wanted to be in the world) and intolerant of the shit actual outlaws should be intolerant of (the police state, in fact the whole goddamn militarized pyramid scam from the top down, which too many rural dudes who consider themselves outlaws seem all too intent on mentally fellating every chance they get). I had really hoped to see Holcombe perform live at some point, but I knew he was old, and word of his health problems got online as his performances became fewer and farther between. He passed away last year, but he left behind a large body of work, that if you’re looking for music that is more country than country music, and way more outlaw than the bullshit your local All Lives Matter jack ass is bumping, you should go digging into Holcombe’s discography. This was off the last album released after he died, of the stuff he was working on in the end. That makes this song feel a little more more… didn’t really know what more to put there. It’s just more. I love this dude and I hope he has found peace, and may his memory be a blessing.

SONG OF THE DAY: Left With A Broken Heart

I really need an ’85 Buick Regal to sit around in and listen to stuff like Joey Quiñones. It doesn’t even have to be a working Regal, and in fact, I don’t even have to own it. There could be a wrecked one down in the woods that I just go sit in and play a Bluetooth speaker. That’s actually preferable. Personal property taxes are way cheaper when shit ain’t your personal property.

SONG OF THE DAY: Magic Mountain

I got this on 45 because I love it slowed down and it pairs great after spinning one of my De La Soul 45s, because folks think another De La song is coming on. This is pretty basic DJ shit, but we live in unreal times where basic is complex and a lot of folks have cognitive dissonance to such a strong amount that everything is new every time they click the refresh button, which they don’t even have to click anymore as it gets clicked for us.
I am mostly drawn to non-Eric Burdon War era stuff, but lately I have made some exceptions. Maybe it’s my own cognitive dissonance.

SONG OF THE DAY: Nature's Way

This is nature’s music blog.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Feel Alright

Ah yes, the false feel good song attempting to trick yourself into enjoying the struggle… a necessary artistic evil in this crooked world.

SONG OF THE DAY: Sin Ti (kudzu'd)

Just a post-modern hobo clown wandering my way through the digital wasteland still, occupying the left behind lands of previous eras, long after they built interstate algorithms that bypassed these parts. For those of you who still happenstance upon this, I hope your life is full of peace, and will remain so. We sow a lot of hate into these digital gardens, and it seems to be blossoming into in real life haters at a horrible rate. But one can always still sow love in their physical life, in the simple interactions that weigh far heavier than touching these screens ever will. And there are those who will suggest to you that’s preposterous and an outdated way of thinking; but they are trying to make you respect and ultimately fear the algorithmic divides. I keep it real, even when I don’t.

SONG OF THE DAY: My Home Among The Hills

The calm and peaceful nature of a Christmas Day is always one of the most pleasant to be creeping around the train yard, even at the edge of drug-addled places. Everything slows down. Sunday mornings can be like that, too. I remember living in Richmond in the ‘90s, when it was always in the top 2 or 3 of murder capitals in America, and on Sunday mornings, you could still ride pretty much anywhere in the city without danger, because there was just a universal truce briefly. Christmas is like a larger version of that. I wish we could have days like that once a month, where everything just shut down, and it was known that no stores were going to be open at all, not even gas stations, and you just didn’t do shit but chill. That whole “peace on Earth” concept is way closer to “you gots to chill” than most folks are able to realize. We really do gots to chill.

SONG OF THE DAY: Riding Home (kudzu'd)

I am very tired, and full of doubt. I should go play on the turntables tonight. Or go to bed before dark. That’s not easy this time of year, but I think I could do it. As I get older, I look forward to winter solstice more and more. Even though the coldest part of winter is still to come, it means the days are getting a tiny bit longer, and closer to the redbud blossoms of survival again, inshallah.

SONG OF THE DAY: Noches de Media Luna

Wrestling with goats underneath the cheshire cat moon, blasting cumbia from a Bluetooth speaker to drown out the failure demons.

SONG OF THE DAY: Rap-O Clap-O

As I get older, I hate the cold weather more and more, so these last couple weeks before winter solstice when it’s dark early and cold, they feel like hell (ironically) to me. The only thing that really cuts the cold is electro funk. I’ve been tinkering with an old ham radio, a Numark CDJ I got at the thrift store, a couple old turntables, Casio synth, and a few assorted oscillator barometric pressure type doohickeys that were in the basement when I bought this place, trying to figure out a way to somehow condense electro funk into heat. I’m getting closer, but I’m afraid to leave it all hooked together while I’m not watching it, because this shit might catch on fire. I thought about running a drop cord out into the most spacious part of the yard to leave it plugged all together to see what happens, but sometimes I worry about electrical cords actually be Yakubian trick fuse lines to eventually blow myself up. You always gotta worry about shit like that, especially after having spent the whole morning reading Malachi Z. York’s Dr. York vs. The Computer earlier this week. The news has stories of all these giant data centers being built to support AI technology, and then there’s old ass he of ill repute Dr. Malachi Z. York foretelling of computers replacing sacred texts, and “Mechanized Makkah” people make pilgrimages to. Of course a lot of that particular tract is the old school “mark of the beast” computer tech type shit from the ‘90s era pre-computer conspiracy realm. It’s ironic that conspiracies actually gained traction once online become the foundation. People go to the beast to learn to be wary of the beast. But I have gotten sidetracked, because I pulled the freestyle rapping prompt “rap-o clap-o Joe Sataan style” from my gallon pickle jar full of folded up neon index cards with prompts written on them. No idea what I was thinking when past me wrote that as a writing prompt, but today me appreciated it and ran with it. But “rap-o clap-o Joe Sataan style” plus Dr. Malachi Z. York treatises in pdf form, well it’s a tough combo that the average person can’t navigate. I really need to get this electro funk heater finished though.

SONG OF THE DAY: Rock Your Baby (kudzu'd)

In the summer, I’d call it foggy brain, but it’s cold as fuck so it feels more like mush brain. The thoughts don’t chop through as cleanly, and get hung up on the briars of memory or fear or delusion or shit man I don’t even know. In periods like this, I try to be chill to myself and just survive the sludge. We expect too much from ourselves sometimes, especially those of us who make a habit of handling way too much because we never could trust others to come through with solid support. You get to a point where you depend on yourself to be impossibly solid, inhumanely solid. It ain’t sustainable at a forever pace. So when it all turns to sludge and the ability to plan much less do gets mushy, fuck it man, just ride it out. Most of what you think you need to do, you don’t need to do. Maintain the minimum, and rest. Not just not doing stuff but worried about it anyways idleness, but deep lean into it rest. Sink into the covers and let the mush envelope you. It’ll clear out. It always does.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Heard My Mother Call My Name In Prayer

The thing I love about music, and really all art, is this is essentially just “Mama Tried” but in the most moanful lonesome dramatic ass way possible. What a jam.

SONG OF THE DAY: Chirpin'

I’m glad I’m not in charge of capitalism, because I would’ve used this jam as a Nextel commercial back in the day, and thus ruined the pure beauty of this overlooked classic. Capitalism ruins everything around me. Dollar dollar bill y’all.

dirtgod's illegitimate artz emporium (aka online shop)

Last week, I updated MY ONLINE SHOP to be more of everything I have. Mostly, I’m glad to be able to have all the available haiku spikes more easily organized for sale, with an option to order custom ones as well. Earlier this year, I had some friends request a pair of spikes to commemorate their marriage. It hadn’t been too long after going to a poetry slam in Charlottesville, and hearing Breeze the Poet talk about playing with contrapuntal poems, where two or more poems also combine to form a separate poem. So it made sense to me to try and write a pair of stand-alone haiku that also combined into an intentional poem. I really love and appreciate this couple, as they have a number of interesting projects going on, including visiting old cemeteries for “vernacular graves”, and they grow a lot of food where they live, with a consciousness towards climate change (because the mountains around them were literally on fire not too long ago).
Sometimes though, the Universe just lines up for you. Two haiku came to mind pretty quickly that also interlocked as a larger poem, and honestly I had it all written the day after their request. I know being able to do stuff like that takes practice and me putting in the work at trying to be attuned towards it happening. But it’s also really hard to take credit on an egotistic level when something like that happens, because it feels beyond me. It’s as much (or more) the Universe in action as it is me consciously doing anything. Here’s the first haiku spike:

walking together

finding inspiration and

strength in a path shared

And then the second one:

in difficult world

cultivating hope to grow

futures intertwined

I thought a lot about them growing food, and writing “futures intertwined” also called to mind the three sisters method of growing. The two haiku spikes go together as such:

walking together

in difficult world

finding inspiration and

cultivating hope to grow

strength in a path shared

futures intertwined

I think this is a great example of how magic haiku spikes can be, especially for custom requests about specific subjects. The past year, I’ve been working to lean more into them as intentional magical objects. So if you’re financially able and interested, go get some magical art at the new shop.
I also launched a new thing, which is an extension of what I’ve been doing here already, where folks can order postcards with tanka poems on them. I have stacks of vintage postcards with various themes (and seriously a box of thousands more to sort through to create more options). I figure with the changes we’re shifting into in America, it’s going to be a taxing ass time, and the digital doomscroll is gonna feel bleaker than it already does. So getting actual physical mail will hopefully be a welcome thing.
Copies of most all my books are on there for you to get directly from me. I’m hoping to get versions of the two most recent books up on IngramSpark soon, so they can be distributed at book stores as well, even if the quality of IngramSpark seems to be less than Kindle Publishing. I’ll still use Kindle Publishing for my copies I sell at events, which means I’m still dealing with Amazon, and they’re available there. I have friends who run independent book stores, so I’m completely understanding about boycotting Amazon. But even if they bought up the old Create Space, the remnants of that is still the best for having physical copies of self-published books. Once I get the books on IngramSpark, I can at least feel better about pushing folks to buy the books at book stores.
To be honest, everyone shilling “small business Saturday” or black Friday stuff this year feels more desperate than ever. I think things are harder than most folks realize out here right now, and I also fear they’re going to get very worse before they get any better. I had wanted to be set up at some markets to try and make some income, but I didn’t know where to apply, and I’m not really connected with folks who pulled me into their little loops. That’s fine though. I’m probably better off outside of those realms anyways, as my shit is kinda fucked up and not real trinkety or matches well with vintage mentality. Nonetheless, I’ve got a shop up and running now, so share the link if you feel it, or poke around. And as I always say at markets, if the price of anything feels like a burden, reach out to me. I’m usually willing to work with folks who genuinely love and want my art, because I don’t think wealth should be required to beautify your life with magic.

SONG OF THE DAY: New Improved Elephants

Hard to imagine improving upon the elephant. I don't think my brain can even get that futuristic. I should microdose harder.

SONG OF THE DAY: Keep On The Sunny Side

In a better world less afraid of hillbillies (or black people or immigrants or really everything that isn't a straight line derivative of well-behaved English fuckers), this would be the state song of Virginia. I sing it in my head all the fuckin' time, so I guess it's the mental state song of dirtgod, which is more important to me than some sort of governmental proclamation anyways. Fuck the government. Even if they change it all and make it way better, I'll still be like "fuck the government".