https://www.fatsoma.com/dusty-pop-entertainment/p6m5j2hn/dogstar-rose
Live Gig at EBGBs Liverpool
Wednesday 12th December 2018
DUSTY POP ENTERTAINMENT & FUNNEL MUSIC PRESENTS
** Dogstar Rose **
Advertisements
Diary
We Are Love
We are love, yes we are, we prove it year in year out, on new year’s eve especially so… Hence let us now set the continuum, the love momentum from whence it came, being human is to be in love… Love yourself, love your family, love your friends and enemies and love their friends and enemies too… It’s easy to do…avoid falling in and out of love, instead remain with love, in love and let love in….let’s set a new year precedent..
We are love, love we are, are we more lovin’… Yes we are….
The Space between a Rock and a Hard Place
When you’re waiting on some platform after just having metaphorically turned a corner in your parallel universe and the sun is shining on the greatest habit you have…. leaving a place where you felt safe and sound, where you experienced wishful thinking and dreaming, scrabbled eroticism and mildly confusing moments of madness … where seconds stood still as you clocked off in an instant…
….and in the time it took to wipe away an oxytocin laden tear, it was all over….
That’s the space between a rock and a hard place…
….. and so you hang loose and lucid for a pregnant pause, just because you can, and because it’s good for the soul, gives that spark to remember your abundance mentality and to further think about preserving and enhancing this as your train pulls in to the station on cue to take you somewhere new…
…and as you board the carriage of fulfilling adventures to come, Commit your golden rule to memory and then commit it to your life…
Never look back, stay in the space of now, remain happy and reinvented between those rocks and hard places….focus on what you have and what you can do to cultivate your positivity and lift the eyes upwards to look forward to where you are going..
The pursuit of happiness is one of those greatest of investments…
Happy Rubbish Day
Wow, human beings need to re-think how to move forward in a less throwaway, consumption hungry greedy rubbish-faced race.
Can it be possible that everyone is still ignorant to their production of rubbish? Does anyone even care about landfilling this earth with waste, litter, rubbish, excrement, feces, spew, defecation, rot, shit, garbage and bins bins bins…..
Hands up, how many of you less than good intentioned people have been atop a landfill site? Uh huh, just as I thought, a no show….
Well happy holidays… Turn a blind eye for sure, that’s damn humane of you..
…. Or….
give yourself a window of opportunity, induce your soul to a good deed and take an educational daytrip to a landfill site… Ground your feet on the spot, close your eyes and tune in, learn something profound about your race….. your race to lick, bite, chomp, chew and consume your way to your grave….
Have you ever stopped to ask yourself the question of where your rubbish rests in peace…?
For those of you who are lucky enough to make it to the countryside and see hillsides where sheep and cattle graze, take a moment to visualise under hoof the layers of grass-seed, soil and lime and then….
As deep levels of covetous conditioning creates toxic layers of crazed consumption amongst billions of misinformed Christmas customers one sighs in realisation that another ‘happy rubbish day’ is upon us. Thus it would be both prudent and wise to remember per se what exactly is it that one is celebrating? … Indeed a less than 24 hour celebration that shall surely turn to unhappy dust faster than it will take a new moon to light up those obliterating first days of January…. heavy hearts, empty pockets, fat bellies, weary saddle-bagged eyes … Fond thoughts of the treadmill loom on the horizon…
Jesus dying for our sins done little more than create monster sinners of us all and by the very virtue of our tinsel trimmed sinning we should have heaped upon our souls such remorse that is equal to our behaviour. When it comes to our carbon footprint we are illuminated as pathetic disgraceful heathens – whichever end of the social spectrum we rest our haunches – we are all as bad as eachother as we fuck the planet over once again this Christmas …
Ah, and “blessed may your children be, for where’s the truth, you’re just a slave, forever running out of time….”
To wish a happy yuletide to mother nature could be far reaching but here in 2014 it is impossible to do so as it would be a complete insult…
Little Losses Major Advances
Tenaciously threading a silken web through the winter subways and streets of New York City can both break and fix in a split second any long-term lingering need for self recognition, purpose or mental fortitude. There is simply no time or space for fear or angst whilst flowing serendipitously through this incredulously deep tiered traffic. Atop of the mental make or break scenario is the possibly beneficial instinct to know, manifest and secure certain levels of psycho physical strength and self-trust in this concrete jungle; for instance, in challenging emergency would one be able to temporarily paralyse an oncoming ferral attack per se?…or even begin to understand it…. would one know how not to panic when panic sets in – after all, each independent entity that we are must come to terms with the fact that we are never too far from the mercy of immediate interdependent critical mass human conscienceness. One cannot possibly know how reactive (positively or negatively) any one single human being is going to be…. where will that spilt second lead to? Will it induce adversarial possessive selfish defensive mistrust or could it, if handled with a balanced non judgmental understanding guide all to a new synergistic system whereby internal self security opens new possibilities for everyone. There comes a time when you have to ask yourself ‘is the army of me prepared?’
There is nothing more disconcerting than disorientation, nothing more awakening than fight or flight, nothing more futile than loss of will.
So from all loss has to come major advances….
Getting lost in NYC can be all about becoming found.
From the Brooklyn Bridge to the Ox Cart
When you get kicked whilst you are down it sometimes makes you not want to get up again, you feel an intrinsic level of worthlessness when you’re in the dark recesses of kerbside gutter thinking and a quiet choking supercedes any teeny tiny light of hope at the end of the poxy tunnel you’re supposed to be holding onto…. if however, you’re one of those lucky bastards who has an innate will that overcomes all hardships and kickings, you’ll get up again..
Lucky for me my will seems to be unstoppable.. I’m thousands of miles from home (if you can call a defunct postcode a home, it’s the only remaining piece of identity I can actually offer as to my current definition of ‘home’) and I’m reeling from a couple of mental kickings from folk that are oblivious to having a bit of consideration to another’s sensitivity and mental state of well being, on top of which I am without that special someone to pick me up, brush me down and hug and tell me that everything is going to be alright… So it was hardly surprising that I therefore found myself not wanting to get out of bed (yes I was lucky enough to have a temporary bed, with a roof over my head so it’s not all bad).. Not like the troubled souls who frequently ride the metro from one end to the other just so they can keep warm and sleep…
Herein, on a cold NYC morning in South Midwood, Brooklyn my general state of mind was glum blue with a pinch of my stalwart tendency to ideate on the passing to the other side and thus I had to have a serious chat with myself…(due to unforeseen circumstances I can no longer allow myself the pleasure of ideation for too long seeing as one of my siblings beat me to the banister and so as not to be double selfish towards my parents and remaining sibling I must re-wire quickly)… So, I sat up and asked myself why had I flown thousands of miles to such an amazing city to not make something of it…kicking or no kicking…
I like bridges.. They inspire me to jump.. Or leap.. Not necessarily literally (although I sense it a euphoric way to go) but the inspiration to ‘just do it’ was just what I needed to get me out from under my miserable covers.
So I got up, showered (another luxury) and dressed as warm as possible.. I put my headphones on, plugged into Nirvana and took my arse to the local downtown metro and made my way to the Brooklyn Bridge…
I alighted at Clark Street and decided to go eat, I hadn’t felt like eating earlier but for some reason my appetite had kicked in (always a good sign of positive re-wiring) and so I found my self in a little cafe on the corner of Pineapple Street…
Hot chocolate and a BLT bagel for under $5… An absolute cheering bargain..
With a renewed sense of self I put a spring in my step and made way to the stairs that would lead me onto the bridge..
Immediately upon stepping out onto the bridge I felt recovered from the ‘kicking whilst down feeling’ and again re-learned and understood how important ‘will’ is on the road to survival… Had I stayed under the sheets in darkness I would have missed the recuperation process of this milestone crossing…
… And the love locks
Made me think about whose love I’d like to padlock (if indeed that’s a healthy hearty thing to do),…
With spirit lifted I did then decide to text a newfound friend and enquire as to their Friday night plans and if I could tag along…
Through the course of the day and the power of the will my rather bleak start transformed into one of exhilaration and fun… I met said new friend and followed him to ‘The Ox Cart’, described by said new friend as ‘the nearest thing to a pub as you can get round here’… Turned out to be quaint and served better food than any UK pub I’d been to in recent times…
I liked the quirky menu and the cross continental eclectic mix of employee too… I laughed a lot and, for the record, have laughed a lot since… All’s well that ‘will’ allows…
Next bridging venture shall be the manhattan to get a shot of the brooklyn from the other side…
The Owl and I
The Owl is indeed a magnificent creature, I used to have a small trinket type one made of many little shells that had somehow made its way into my possession when I was in my first decade of life, probably from one of the seaside resorts I’d visited or maybe it was from The Isle of Wight… Well I remember how much I’d loved that novelty owl, how it had sat neatly amongst the other knick knacks on my window ledge, how I’d stared into its beaded eyes and wondered and imagined all sorts of greatness…that was until I overheard someone somewhere saying how unlucky and foreboding it was to keep anything resembling an owl indoors. Being so young and easily influenced and indeed scared of most of the big bad world I remember throwing my beautiful shell owl away and have never ever kept one in or near me since (apart from of course admiring their beauty on such occasions when they are put on ‘captive’ show for Joe public to hoot and coo over).
That is until now.
Oh how the conditioning of our young mind can stay with us a lifetime, ominously for good or evil.
For 16 days now I have been in the USA, have seen a fair bit of brooklyn, midtown manhattan, passed through washington DC, gigged in rockville, got spoiled in pennslyvania, had my feet tickled n pampered in Lititz, drank margarita’s in baltimore city, back with a bump to Lancaster and saw the arse end of the train station at philadephia to returning to south midwood. The one and only thing that has truly linked each place together, no matter where I’ve stayed or passed through is the fact that I have continously seen the symbol of ‘Owl’… In so many intriguing and intricate incarnations too, on bags, in mirrors, on barmaid’s t-shirts, as badges, logos, their feathers on hats, as cushion covers…and I have felt the need to know why I keep noticing this particular creature of mother nature.. I have kept meaning to look up its definitive role in my conscience.
Then two days ago I had what I deem to be a part breakdown of my mental state of health, it’s been a long time coming, I’ve been covering cracks and smothering smiles for a good while (pretty much during my whiskey ways I propose).. Anyway it did culminate in my ejection from lodgings and the unsurety of where I would rest my head in this big metropolis apple that I’m in…
How so it happened I have managed to end up in an attic in an amityville style looking house in a suburb of brooklyn close to its self named college, and here in this attic is a relatively small scale yet masterfully colourful and quite breathtaking library of books….
Small part of the whole library
And I have been given the privilege of being able to make use of it to my heart’s content…
Within the first hour of settling into my new lodgings I opened my mind that was crying for help and was drawn to the paperback “destined to be the personal leadership handbook of the decade”.. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R.Covey. This gem of a read is already proving to be a source of sound fundamental assistance and my frazzled sense of self is having several ‘aha’ moments.. I’m learning (and re-learning) about choice and how to be aware of the build up of years of conditioning that gets you thinking that your life is ‘just how it is’ cos ‘it has always been this way’, ‘its who I am’… Life made me this way jeeeez.. But uh oh, I’m living such a lie, it’s my reactions to the stimuli presented to me that is ultimately hurting me… I’m relaying devastating notions to myself which, in turn, have, over time ruined every single relationship I’ve had and continues (on a pretty fast turnaround scale nowadays) to crumble all current relations I’m effectively not having… I’m so independent I’m no longer necessary to anyone, who needs someone who doesn’t need anybody?
Ok, so after my tears of yesterday and my realisations of today I just took the time to look up the value of the Owl…
… a magical spirit who will help one to see through the darkness, through the illusions and see a real meaning to one’s state of mind, one’s actions… The Owl wants to guide toward fulfilling self potential… Because of its nocturnal self it can attribute to death, not always literal, moreover symbolic as with a major transition in life, important changes taking place or about to happen…
There was much more insight than the small soundbite I gave above but ultimately…
I’m to pay attention to these winds of change, leave behind my old habits of a destructive nature, and to not return to situations that are no longer of a positive service to my well being…
Now is the time to bring something new into my life…
The potential is far reaching… So. I’m going to spread my wings, flap around a bit and then settle down to get on with some magical creativity in the wee dark hours of this night…..
