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Stephen King(yes,THAT Stephen King loves MIKA!)


PurpleMonkey

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The magazine came yesterday and the actual (very short)

item reads like this (it's not online yet):

 

3. Life in Cartoon Motion, MIKA: An incredibly accomplished debut, and a

voice that bears an eerie resemblance to Freddie Mercury's. This one lived all

summer on my car's CD player, especially "Lollipop."

 

However, none of Mika's songs made "Steve's Mix '07" -- his list of

favorite songs of the year. And yet... Avril's "Girlfriend" did! :shocked:

 

dcdeb

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The magazine came yesterday and the actual (very short)

item reads like this (it's not online yet):

 

3. Life in Cartoon Motion, MIKA: An incredibly accomplished debut, and a

voice that bears an eerie resemblance to Freddie Mercury's. This one lived all

summer on my car's CD player, especially "Lollipop."

 

However, none of Mika's songs made "Steve's Mix '07" -- his list of

favorite songs of the year. And yet... Avril's "Girlfriend" did! :shocked:

 

dcdeb

As Mika says, he would rather be remembered for a body of work instead of just a single. :wink2:

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I love Stephen King's world. I read some books he wrote, and i'm determined to go on.

Last weeks, i read "different seasons", and a short story in it was very disturbing. It's a king of unwholesome game between a secondary school pupil and an old man who was a nazi in his youth. Very, very brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr !

 

And it's a great new he like Mika !

 

:thumb_yello:

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Stephen King wrote a book about his writing, and explained how he uses his own fear, of which he has a plentiful supply, as fuel and inspiration.

 

Now that is what I value most in Mika's songs, the distillation of unbearable emotion. That is why those two incredible pairs of songs: Relax/Any Other World and Happy Ending/Over My Shoulder are so powerful and reliable as emotional supports or means of catharsis. They are honest and genuine, the musical brilliance is fueled by total human engagement, the whole self.

 

I cannot tell you how much I have cried working to Happy Ending, remembering the deaths of my brother and my impossible, beautiful ex-husband. Both horrible deaths, both messed and marred further by bureaucratic nastiness, deceit and arrogance.

 

Such experiences make it much harder to ignore the real horror into which we are all plunged: "it's all in the hands of a bitter, bitter man."

 

I cannot usually bear to listen to pop music and my musical experience is not extensive, but it is vital to my working life, hate to paint without it. I can therefore clearly state that I have found Happy Ending/Over My Shoulder to be as cathartic as Sibelius's Waltz Triste. Sorry if that sounds pompous, but buggerillo, there's not much music you can trust when your heart is all over the carpet.

 

I do wonder how people manage who have the cd that ends with that beautiful sad song. Luckily mine has Ring Ring on the end, which helps me to dry my tears, put the kettle on, and determine not to telephone anyone about any of this!

 

I would like to say lots more about that other marvelous pairing, but I am not sure that I should.

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  • 3 months later...

It should have been Valse Triste, by Sibelius. With a v, not a w. Sorry.

 

Just looked in to see if there's anything about the young fellow taking his time over new album. Very pleased to have heard that. No sense in rushing things.

 

Good work takes time. Like knitting a parachute with cobwebs.

 

Shall I say more about Relax/Any Other World? That would mean listening to them again. Haven't done that for a few weeks, trying to build renew interior edifice that can support continuing attempts to understand the nature of our world and its systems.

Finding song by John Gorka "Outside" particularly helpful during last few months, from his album 'Old Futures Gone'.

 

I was one of those due to attend Mika's cancelled concert in December, few days before worst birthday ever, or perhaps third worst. Heart trouble. Went to other concert in February, security took this Granny's thermos flask off her at the door, in case I threw it at the stage. For goodness sake, I'm not 4. Live like a hermit, poke my little head out the shell and the world's radically changed again. Then I buy a bottle of water and the silly man won't give me back the top (in case I throw that one too) so I have to concentrate on not spilling this bottle of water all the way through the concert, and that is a foolish distraction until I get my thermos flask back on the way out. Oh authoritarians, hard to find a place clear of them sometimes.

http://home.cc.umanitoba.ca/~altemey/

 

I can't help noticing that people seem to be expecting a level of unnecessary violence of me that I am simply not prepared to give.

 

Ok, I'll listen to them again now. I just hope I don't knock the scab off this awful mess in my memory.

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It took that long to get the nerve to listen to it again. Had a really bad Christmas, didn't want to go back there again. It was alright, just skirted the edge of the first song, I forget what it's called, Grace Kelly

(and who's going to write an article about that and Psychosynthesis and subpersonalities, hey? That would be very enjoyable for someone.) The joys of a multi-dimensional personality.

http://two.not2.org/psychosynthesis/

 

Yes, and nipped straight in to those two songs which make so outstanding a whole: Relax/Any Other World, rushing to turn off before the next which is so distracting in the noisy manner of it that it knocks the whole incredible thing off the page.

I suppose that's deliberate.

 

What is done here is so excellent and good. These two songs and an exhibition of Jeffrey Camp's paintings in London last spring, had a significant influence on my work since then. Whispering through it the insistence the mysterious message gets through, just open to the marks that come bursting out of the brushes like fireworks.

 

How come? Where do these songs take you, or me, or who or we, or where, or am?

 

I'm not sure that I should say. It all begins to horribly, so true, some of us recognise that place

 

I have to press my back against the hot radiator to stop myself shaking sometimes, when I remember, it isn't so good to talk about as you might think. Has to be done from time to time, as the perspectives shift, as new lessons infiltrate, bypassing the safety valve on my mind.

 

A cup of tea.. listen again.

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This is the best news I have ever read for ages ! I love Stephen King's books ! He is one of my favourite writers ! I hope someday, he mentions Mika in one of his books, quotes some of his lyrics or something like that, as he often does with the songs he likes !

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Could end up grisly and unpalatable.

 

By the time I'd finished what I said I would do the other night (writing something about Relax/Any Other World) it was very late, and I was talking to myself again, so I slunk off, without posting this:

 

This moment is all we may have in the accelerating expansion of this explosion in time called now.

Sunday night, past midnight, all asleep around, lights out, stars glimmer between clouds. Far away a dog barks... a dog howls... I've eaten all the licorice...

Relax...

out on the edge, hurtling into the dark...

 

so mannered, brisk,

and this is what happens in the real world when your heart is broken and you stand on the balcony, rejected...

Another blow falls, and on some the blows are terribly severe. At length we shall all break in the breeze and be blown away.

 

This weaving of stories, the inner story of our own unconscious ramblings in high anxiety, the meaning of our lives and times so very challenging

among the accumulations of loss, rocketing toward oblivion

somehow the experience of surrender can be refreshing, the horrified recognition of total alteration of life, of being, in every way.

 

Gentle anthem for paradigm shift,

 

solace for the grief-stricken, the body of the soul fractured and torn.

speak for yourself, speak for each other, the key is telling the truth

let yourself let go, the kindest words I'd heard in a while, holding it all together in the dark, no sign whatever of a future, couldn't see a thing out there.

Men chasing each other with guns everybody's loss except for the dealers in death, speculators and profiteers who are growing poisonous mushrooms in the dank dark pit of their souls.

Because when you see how things really are

you find yourself alone,

no-one will listen,

no-one wants to know

about the bony hand knocking on the door.

 

Published on 27 Feb 2008 by Speaking Truth to Power. Archived on 27 Feb 2008.

Review of Dmitry Orlov's Re-inventing Collapse

The old normal is that life will go on just like before. The new normal is that nothing will ever be the same. Rather than attempting to undertake the Herculean task of mitigating the unmitigatable-attempting to stop the world and point it in a different direction-it seems far better to turn inward and work to transform yourself into someone who might stand a chance, given the world's assumed trajectory. Much of this transformation is psychological and involves letting go of many notions that we have been conditioned to accept unquestioningly. Some if it involves acquiring new skills and a different set of habits. Some of it is even physiological, changing one's body to prepare it for a life that has far fewer creature comforts and conveniences, while requiring far more physical labor.

http://www.energybulletin.net/40989.html

 

Read that writing on the wall, we too will pass.

Will it be as ciphers, lost in the sand,

or a faint memory

of self respect in the bones of our descendents?

 

Perhaps we lit the way into a chastened future.

http://www.permaculture.org.uk/mm.asp?mmfile=whatispermaculture

"Maximum contemplation; minimum action."

 

Time to think.

 

Enough is enough.

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