Podcasts about Banjo

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friends are Sharon Gilchrist, Rachel Baiman, and Ella Korth, of The John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project! We recorded this last week at Rachel's home in Madison, TN. Tunes in this episode (all John Hartford originals): * Takes Her Clothes Off (0:36) * Not Soft Enough (11:28) * Don't Throw Her Down (21:39) * Living Upstairs (38:55) * Long White Road (47:12) * BONUS TRACK: Madison Visit John Hartford's website to buy his fiddle tune albums (https://www.johnhartford.com/) Visit The John Hartford Fiddle Tune Project's website for tour dates and booking (https://www.hartfordprojecttour.com/) Follow John Hartford on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/johnhartfordofficial/) Take Sharon Gilchrist's Peghead Nation bluegrass mandolin course (https://www.pegheadnation.com/string-school/instructors/sharon-gilchrist) Follow Sharon Gilchrist on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/sharongilchristmusic/) Follow Rachel Baiman on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/rachelbaiman/) Follow Ella Korth on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/ella.korth/) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/) follow Sweeten the Third on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/sweetenthethird/?hl=en)

[REBROADCAST FROM October 20, 2025] Both Steve Martin and Alison Brown share a love of the banjo. Videos of the two playing together have gone viral online, and Martin's banjo videos during the pandemic were particularly comforting to many. Brown and Martin talk about their new album, Safe Sensible and Sane, and perform live in the studio.

Songs featured in this stream: Fairytale of New York, Gloucestershire Wassail, It's Hard to be a Shantyman (on Christmas), Scrooge, Blackbird, God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen, Skadi's Hammer, Christmas At Sea, Old Bloke Pickin' on a Banjo, The Snow it Melts the Soonest, Doggerbank, Being a Pirate, Flash Company, Jingle Bell Wreck.

Marcel Schnitzer, the man behind some of Tasmania’s most beloved Banjo’s Bakery creations, joins Kaz and Tubes to celebrate 40 years.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is Brittany Haas! We recorded this last weekend at her home in Nashville. Tunes in this episode: * Hawk is a Mule (Andrew Marlin original) (0:33) * Waynesboro (9:28) * Old Aunt Jenny with Her Nightcap On (24:56) * (Swedish tune that we couldn't remember the name of) (36:30) * Half Past Four (41:10) * BONUS TRACK: Sugar in the Coffee Buy Brittany Haas's albums on Bandcamp (https://brittanyhaas.bandcamp.com/) Visit Brittany Haas's website (https://www.brittanyhaas.com/) Follow her on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/brittfiddle/) Visit Punchbrothers' website (https://www.punchbrothers.com/) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/) follow Sweeten the Third on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/sweetenthethird/?hl=en)

Lizzy Long - Fiddle, Banjo, Guitar, resonator banjo, vocalsHaving roots in the heart of the south, Elizabeth Long, or Lizzy as her friends and fans know her was born on a farm in Lincolnton, Georgia. She began her music accomplishment at an early age. While starting out on the piano, Lizzy soon took up the fiddle, guitar, autoharp, bass, banjo, and mandolin, and has become an accomplished musician, alternating between these instruments as part of her entertainment repertoire. She has played with great acts such as Mac Wiseman, Jim and Jesse, The Lewis Family, and Earl Scruggs. Continuing her quest for success, Lizzy has paired up with Little Roy Lewis from the legendary Lewis Family. Her extraordinary voice shimmers with strains of America's musical roots. Lizzy has won “Bluegrass Song of the Year” for a several songs called “Mountain Top”, a duet with Ty Herndon called “When We Fly”, and "He Washed My Soul". Most recently at the 2015 GMA Dove awards she was awarded Best Bluegrass Song of the Year for a Duet with Rhonda Vincent called "God is There". She is one of the youngest fiddlers to be inducted into “America's Old Time Fiddler's Country Hall of Fame” in LeMars, IA. Her latest solo Album "Blueberry Pie" has ranked as high as #2 on Billboard's Bluegrass Charts. Little Roy summed it up the best, "pull a plank off the wall and she'll play it!"Little Roy is awfully hard to overlook. He makes sure that no one in the audience gets bored at any time. Little Roy has won awards as Entertainer as well as for his banjo playing. Little Roy learned to play banjo when he was only six years old and won a local talent contest for his playing when he was eight. Little Roy's favorite banjo players are Don Reno and Earl Scruggs. USA Today called Little Roy 'a banjo master, truly a picker's picker'. Little Roy can also be found playing the guitar and autoharp. In fact, the song 'Good Time Get-Together' was written to highlight his instrumental skills. Little Roy is multi-talented - he sings, plays many instruments, tells stories, and acts. When you see this Duo, you are sure to notice Little Roy, and he'll make you smile. He has been inducted into the Georgia Music Hall of Fame, SPGBMA Hall of Greats, IBMA Hall of Honor, and the Southern Gospel Music Hall of Fame.

par Benoit Basirico Cinezik Radio sur Cinezik.fr Voici notre sélection de musiques de films nées autour des cordes pincées. De la guitare intimiste au bouzouki endiablé, en passant par la harpe cristalline et la cithare, ce troisième volet de notre série explore l'art de l'instant. Loin des grandes envolées symphoniques, la corde pincée est le son de la solitude, de la fragilité de l'existence et de l'intimité face à l'immensité du décor. Des arpèges désertiques de Ry Cooder pour “Paris, Texas” aux larsens industriels de Neil Young (“Dead Man”), de la Sibérie fantasmée de Maurice Jarre (“Docteur Jivago”) à la Sicile tragique de Nino Rota (“Le Parrain”), nous traversons les époques et les continents pour comprendre comment ces instruments (guitare, banjo, harpe, cithare, mandoline, oud...) deviennent de puissants marqueurs sémantiques et géographiques, faisant souvent vibrer ce que l'orchestre symphonique ne peut exprimer. Toutes les B.O du Panorama : Under Fire (Roger Spottiswoode, 1983) - Jerry Goldsmith The River (Mark Rydell, 1984) - John Williams Paris, Texas (Wim Wenders, 1984) - Ry Cooder Impitoyable (Clint Eastwood, 1992) - Lennie Niehaus & Clint Eastwood Dead Man (Jim Jarmusch, 1995) - Neil Young Une Histoire Vraie (David Lynch, 1999) - Angelo Badalamenti Le Secret de Brokeback Mountain (Ang Lee, 2005) - Gustavo Santaolalla Crash (David Cronenberg, 1996) - Howard Shore Délivrance (John Boorman, 1972) - Eric Weissberg & Marshall Brickman Sherlock Holmes contre Jack l'Éventreur / A Study In Terror (James Hill, 1965) - John Scott First Man (Damien Chazelle, 2018) - Justin Hurwitz Tempête sous la mer (Robert D. Webb, 1953) - Bernard Herrmann Dark Crystal (Jim Henson & Frank Oz, 1982) - Trevor Jones La Dernière Licorne (J. Bass & A. Rankin, 1982) - Jimmy Webb Le Troisième Homme (Carol Reed, 1949) - Anton Karas Zorba le Grec (Michael Cacoyannis, 1964) - Mikis Theodorakis Docteur Jivago (David Lean, 1966) - Maurice Jarre Le Parrain (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972) - Nino Rota Le Dernier Empereur (Bernardo Bertolucci, 1987) - Ryuichi Sakamoto Capitaine Corelli (John Madden, 2001) - Stephen Warbeck Babel (Alejandro G. Iñárritu, 2006) - Gustavo Santaolalla Gente di Rispetto (Luigi Zampa, 1975) - Ennio Morricone Only Lovers Left Alive (Jim Jarmusch, 2013) - Jozef Van Wissem

1. Deacon Blues / Last Night I Dreamed of Henry Thomas2. Eric Bibb / This One Doesn't3. Mississippi John Hurt / Coffee Blues (Lovin' Spoonful)4. Geoff, Jenni, and Clare Muldaur / Chicken 5. Maria Muldaur / I Go For That 6.Grateful Dead (David Grisman) / Friend of the Devil 7. The Loving Spoonful / Henry Thomas (Twill & Banjo) 8. Henry Thomas / Bull Doze Blues 9. Canned Heat / Going Up to the Country (Bull Doze Blues) 10. Dave Alvin w/ Canned Heat / The Blind Owl 11. Taj Mahal / Fishing Blues12. Guy Davis / Run Mollie, Run 13. Henry Thomas / Old Country Stomp 14. Mississippi Sheiks / Sitting on Top of the World 15. Bob Dylan / Honey, Just Allow Me Once More Chance16. Grateful Dead / Don't Ease Me In 17. Dom Flemons / Texas Easy St (Black Cowboys) 18. Bruce Springsteen / Black Cowboys19. Lovin' Spoonful / Daydream20. Burl Ives / Big Rock Candy Mountain 

Clive Anderson is joined in Glasgow by My Mad Fat Diary actor Sharon Rooney. In her latest thriller series The Revenge Club she joins Martin Compston and Meera Syal in a cast of motley divorcees who want to get back at their exes. Jonathan Watson is back on the telly this Christmas when Two Doors Down returns. The neighbours of Latimer Crescent reunite for a special episode, as Beth and Eric dare to put their tree up a bit earlier than usual.Interior Design Masters winner Banjo Beale has filled our screens with transformations across the country. Now Banjo and Ro's Grand Island Hotel takes him and his husband to the remote island of Ulva as they attempt their biggest design project to date. Flora Shedden first charmed the world when she appeared on The Great British Bake Off as a teenager in 2015. Now she keeps her community in Dunkeld supplied with baked goods and local produce, and in her new book Winter in the Highlands she shares some of those recipes with us.Plus music from Malin Lewis, and a track from new folk musical Ballad Lines. Presenter: Clive Anderson Producer: Caitlin Sneddon

Welcome to Get Up in the Yule: Holiday Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This year's friends are Penka Jane Culevski and Brian Lindsay of Dear Crow! We recorded this the day after Thanksgiving in their home in Olympia, WA. Tunes in this episode: * James Crase's Christmas Time's A Comin' (0:50) * Gloucestershire Wassail (16:55) * Build Up the Bonfire (Zoe Mulford original) (30:28) * Christmas Eve (44:42) * Taylor Kimble's Breaking Up Christmas (49:27) * BONUS TRACK: Miss Fogarty's Christmas Cake Visit Dear Crow's website (https://dearcrowmusic.com/) and follow them on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/dearcrowmusic/?hl=en) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/) follow Sweeten the Third on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/sweetenthethird/?hl=en)

W najnowszym Raporcie o Grach razem z Norbertem bierzemy na warsztat dwa całkiem chaotyczne tygodnie w branży: od kryzysu wokół pamięci RAM i współczucia od Team Cherry dla sceny indie, przez pytanie o zmierzch dominacji F2P, aż po ambicje Virtua Fightera, który celuje w miano GOTY. Przyglądamy się problemom Yacht Club Games, które balansuje na krawędzi opłacalności, wyciekom nowego, zaskakującego sprzętu Xboxa oraz rekordowi, który przebił Microsoft i ActiVision. Sprawdzamy też, dlaczego Helldivers 2 wreszcie przestał niszczyć dyski, co oznacza antycheatowy „młot” w nowym Battlefieldzie i czemu FF7 Remake na Switcha 2 to jedyna gra, jaką zmieścicie na konsoli. Do tego kontrowersje z „Chef Kawasaki”, ostrzeżenia przed reżyserem Ghost in the Shell i… Banjo, który ożywa w Dreams. Krótko: grubo, dziwnie i bardzo branżowo.(00:00:00) - START(00:00:08) - Rozgrzewka

This week's Bitesize episode celebrates one of the most important dates in bluegrass music - December 8th. The main reason this date is so important is that it marks the first time Earl Scruggs joined Bill Monroe at The Opry, on December 8th 1945, leading many people to describe it as 'the birth of bluegrass'. That makes 2025 the 80th anniversary of bluegrass!Fast forward to December 8th 1962 and we have another Flatt and Scruggs milestone - their performance at New York's Carnegie Hall, which was released the year after as Flatt and Scruggs Live at Carnegie Hall, a record that went on to become a firm favourite of bluegrass fans the world over.To celebrate that record, I'll be joined by Trey Hensley in the next episode of the podcast...which is also Bluegrass Jam Along's 500th episode! If you missed the Earl Scruggs 100th birthday episodes I put together last year, you'll find them here:Jerry Douglas celebrates Earl Scruggs' 100th BirthdayEarl Scruggs 100th Birthday Tribute:Part 1 - Tony Trischka, Kristin Scott Benson and Alan MundePart 2 - Jerry Douglas, Alison Brown and Tim O'BrienJim Mills on Earl Scruggs and pre-War Gibson banjos Support the show===Thanks to Bryan Sutton for his wonderful theme tune to Bluegrass Jam Along (and to Justin Moses for playing the fiddle!) Bluegrass Jam Along is proud to be sponsored by Collings Guitars and Mandolins- Sign up to get updates on new episodes - Free fiddle tune chord sheets- Here's a list of all the Bluegrass Jam Along interviews- Follow Bluegrass Jam Along for regular updates: Instagram Facebook - Review us on Apple Podcasts

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

Walk n Talk are holding a pie eating comp to raise funds for their vital work promoting mental health awareness, resilience, and emotional well-being. Tahlia, Franchisee of Banjo's Bakery in Rocky shared the deets!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

—1313. Chroma111. Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So imm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He shot first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW ​​

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is Joe Seamons! We recorded this last weekend at my home in Portland, OR. Tunes in this episode: * Cedar Mill Boys (lyrics from Hobe Kytr) (1:13) * Waterbound (extra lyrics from Joe Seamons) (14:34) * Give the Fiddler a Dram (extra lyrics from John Cunnick) (30:12) * Same Old Wind (John and Kim Cunnick original) (39:21) * Memphis Blues (W.C. Handy original) (55:35) * BONUS TRACK: Love, Love Alone (John Hardy original) Follow Joe Seamons on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/joebanjo/?hl=en) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/) follow Sweeten the Third on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/sweetenthethird/?hl=en)

With Walk n Talk in Rocky holding a pie eating contest at Banjo's to raise funds - Somehow, the conversation in the office turned to Macca's potential feat of excellence by way of breaking a food eating world record.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Pacific St Blues & AmericanaNovember 30, 2025Thanksgiving, Henry ThomasExplore the Nexus of Folk, Ragtime, and Piedmont Blues 1. Boz Scaggs / The Meaning of the Blues 2. Jon Baptiste / Do It All Again 3. Deacon Blues / Last Night I Dreamed of Henry Thomas4. Joanne Shaw Taylor / Irish Christmas 5. Eric Bibb / This One Doesn't6. Mississippi John Hurt / Coffee Blues (Lovin' Spoonful)7. Geoff, Jenni, and Clare Muldaur / Chicken 8. Maria Muldaur / I Go For That 9.Grateful Dead (David Grisman) / Friend of the Devil 10. The Loving Spoonful / Henry Thomas (Twill & Banjo) 11. Henry Thomas / Bull Doze Blues 12. Canned Heat / Going Up to the Country (Bull Doze Blues) 13. Dave Alvin w/ Canned Heat / The Blind Owl 14. Taj Mahal / Fishing Blues15. Guy Davis / Run Mollie, Run 16. Henry Thomas / Old Country Stomp 17. Mississippi Sheiks / Sitting on Top of the World 18. Bob Dylan / Honey, Just Allow Me Once More Chance19. Grateful Dead / Don't Ease Me In 20. Dom Flemons / Texas Easy St (Black Cowboys) 21. Bruce Springsteen / Black Cowboys22. Arlo Guthrie / Alices Restaurant Massacre 

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friends are River Scheuerell and Alex Sturbaum! We recorded this last week at Alex's home in Olympia, WA. Tunes in this episode: * Half Irish (1:03) * Rocking in the Weary Land (9:15) * Winderslide (20:14) * Garfield's Blackberry Blossom (29:26) * Bob's Farewell (37:47) * BONUS TRACK: Gunboat Visit River Scheuerell's website (https://www.riverscheuerell.com/) and follow him on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/river_scheuerell/?hl=en) Visit Alex Sturbaum's website (https://www.alexsturbaum.com/) and follow them on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/alexsturbaum) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

A 15-year-old violinist introduces us to his charming coastal community of Damariscotta, Maine and a talented young banjo player brings us into her musical home in the foothills of Leicester, North Carolina. Co-host/violinist Tessa Lark draws on her own childhood in Kentucky as she reflects with Peter Dugan on the stories and performances of these talented young musicians from rural communities. Don't miss the videos of each hometown visit at fromthetop.org.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

EVEN MORE about this episode!Dreams can be some of the clearest messages we receive from Spirit—and in this episode, we explore just how powerful they can be. Together, we unpack the vivid dream Lori experienced featuring her departed husky, Banjo, and her Dalmatian, Ripley, revealing layers of symbolism, intuitive guidance, and even a suggestion from Spirit about adding another furry companion to the family.We then turn our attention to supporting the memory health of an 85-year-old grandmother, using an energetic scan to explore possible contributors to her cognitive decline—from past trauma to medication effects—and offering hopeful, practical ways to strengthen her brain. Our healing work continues as we send restorative energy to Cole, a young man recovering from a traumatic neck injury, holding space for resilience, healing, and forward momentum.Throughout the episode, Spirit brings through comforting messages from departed loved ones: a son communicating through the serene beauty of white lilies, and guidance surrounding glaucoma, past cancer, and emotional wellbeing. As we close with warm Thanksgiving wishes from Sweet Home Alabama, we're reminded of how deeply we're all connected—through family, through Spirit, and through this beautiful community.Join us as we explore the magic of dreams, the power of healing, and the loving presence of Spirit in our everyday lives.Episode Chapters:(0:00:01) - Ask Julie Ryan Show(0:10:30) - Astral Visitation and Symbolic Dreams(0:18:56) - Elderly Woman's Memory Health Discussion(0:28:00) - Messages From Spirit(0:36:58) - Cole's Traumatic Injury Healing Process(0:48:07) - Healing and Angelic Training Giveaway(0:59:59) - Thanksgiving Wishes From Sweet Home Alabama➡️Subscribe to Ask Julie Ryan YouTube➡️Subscribe to Ask Julie Ryan Español YouTube➡️Subscribe to Ask Julie Ryan Português YouTube➡️Subscribe to Ask Julie Ryan Deutsch YouTube➡️Subscribe to Ask Julie Ryan Français YouTube✏️Ask Julie a Question!

Head shaking in horses with Dr. Cayot Betty and Kathy Gray from Stirrups n Strides Therapeutic Riding Center, Inc. join us live in the studio

Reference recording for the tab posted--view my tabs here.

Reference recording for the tab posted--view my tabs here.

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is Lillian Sawyer! We recorded this on Sunday at my home in Portland, OR. Tunes in this episode: * Walk Along John to Kansas (0:40) * Johnny Court the Widow (20:52) * Speed the Plow (46:24) * Farewell Princeton (51:32) * Come On Old Paint, Let's Get On Up That Hill (Bach Bui original) (58:42) * BONUS TRACK: Five Miles from Town Visit Lillian Sawyer's website (https://www.lilliansawyer.com/) and follow her on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/lilliansawyerfiddle/) Visit Never Come Down's website (https://nevercomedownband.com/) And follow them on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/nevercomedownband) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

The Post Credit Scene Podcast brings something brand new to the table — The Pitch!

The guys were live from Huck's backyard with 100+ of their closest friends. Special guests join the show and afterwards everyone was treated to Charlottes best band, Dead Man's Banjo.

From "King Tut" to the top of the bluegrass charts! Grammy and IBMA award-winning banjoists and songwriters Steve Martin and Alison Brown join us to chat about their respective careers and their first full-length collaborative album, Safe, Sensible and Sane. PART ONEPaul and Scott chat about how impressed they are with all the various hats Alison Brown and Steve Martin wear, while also trying to wrap their heads around the seeming complexity of the banjo. PART TWOOur in-depth conversation with Steve Martin and Alison BrownABOUT STEVE MARTIN AND ALISON BROWNThough he began his career as a stand-up comedian, Steve Martin has released more musical albums than comedy albums. Between 2009 and 2017 he issued six, many of which were collaborations with Steep Canyon Rangers, Edie Brickell, or both. They all reached number one on the bluegrass chart, and nearly all appeared on the Billboard 200. He has been nominated for 15 Grammy awards and has won five, including Best American Roots Song, Best Bluegrass Album, and Best Country Instrumental Performance for his appearance on “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” alongside Earl Scruggs, Vince Gill, Albert Lee, and Glen Duncan on the 2001 album Earl Scruggs and Friends. Martin's latest album, his seventh bluegrass chart topper, is called Safe, Sensible and Sane, and is a collaboration with fellow banjoist Alison Brown.Brown first came to prominence as a member of Alison Krauss and Union Station and, in 1991, became the first woman to win the International Bluegrass Association's Banjo Player of the Year award. After a stint as Michelle Shocked's band leader she launched a solo career blending bluegrass, jazz, Latin, and Celtic influences. She has received two Grammy nominations for Best Bluegrass Album, and two for Best Country Instrumental Performance, one of which she won for “Leaving Cottondale,” a collaboration with Bela Fleck. In 2015 Alison received the Distinguished Achievement Award from the International Bluegrass Music Association for the furtherance of bluegrass music. She and Martin first collaborated on “Foggy Mountain Breaking” from her 2023 album, On Banjo.  Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

EPISODE 112 -  “CLASSIC CINEMA STAR OF THE MONTH: JACQUELINE WHITE” - 11/03/25 When we think of our beloved Classic film stars who are still with us, we tend to think of EVA MARIE SAINT, ANN BLYTH, KIM NOVAK, ROBERT WAGNOR, or DICK VAN DYKE, however, there is one star among us who will be turning 103 in November. The name JACQUELINE WHITE may not ring any bells today, but for a brief time in the 1940s, she was a beautiful, talented leading lady with much promise. In fact, when she was up for the lead role of the mother in the 1946 film The Yearling, she was told by the producers that she was too beautiful to portray the simple pioneer woman. The role went to JANE WYMAN, who probably would have been none-too-pleased to know that, apparently, she was just fine playing such a plain and simple woman! But as a consolation prize, Wyman was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Actress. Join us as we pay tribute to Jacqueline White and her contribution to classic cinema.  SHOW NOTES:  Sources: Jacqueline White Official Biography, 1946, RKO Studios; “Jacqueline White May Be The New Irene Dunne, December 1, 1946, Los Angeles Times; “Jacqueline White to Wed,” September 20, 1948, by Louella Parsons, Los Angeles Examiner; “Snappy Shots,” October 24, 1948, by Dorothy Manners, Los Angeles Examiner; “An Interview With…Jacqueline White,” by Mike Fitzgerald, Western Clippings; Wikipedia.com; TCM.com; IBDB.com; IMDBPro.com; Movies Mentioned: Dr. Gillespie's New Assistant  (1942), starring Lionel Barrymore, Van Johnson, & Susan Peters; Reunion in France (1942), starring Joan Crawford & John Wayne; Air Raid Wardens (1943), starring Stan Laurel, Oliver Hardy, & Jacqueline White; Three Hearts for Julia (1943), starring Ann Sothern & Melvyn Douglas; Pilot #5 (1943), starring Franchot Tone, Marsha Hunt, & Gene Kelly; Swing Shift Maisie (1943), starring Ann Sothern & James Craig; A Guy Named Joe (1943), starring Spencer Tracy, Irene Dunne, & Van Johnson; Song of Russia (1944), starring Robert Taylor & Susan Peters; Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo (1944), starring Spencer Tracy, Van Johnson, & Robert Walker; The Harvey Girls (1946), starring Judy Garland, John Hodiak, & Angela Lansbury; The Show Off (1946), starring Red Skelton, Marilyn Maxwell, & Marjorie Main; Banjo (1947), starring Sharron Moffat & Jacqueline White; Seven Keys To Baldpate (1947), starring Phillip Terry & Jacqueline White; Crossfire (1947), starring Robert Young, Robert Mitchum, Robert Ryan, & Gloria Grahame; Night Song (1947); starring Dana Andrews & Merle Oberon; Return of the Bad Men (1948), starring Randolph Scott, Robert Ryan, Anne Jeffries, & Jacqueline White; Mystery In Mexico (1948), starring William Lundigan & Jacqueline White; Riders on The Range (1950), starring Tim Holt & Jacqueline White; The Capture (1950), starring Lew Ayres & Teresa Wright The Narrow Margin (1952), starring Charles MacGRaw, Marie Windsor & Jacqueline White; --------------------------------- http://www.airwavemedia.com Please contact sales@advertisecast.com if you would like to advertise on our podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On today's Extra, Palisades Park, Letters, & Josh's Banjo Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friends are Amy Alvey and Mark Kilianski of Golden Shoals! They recorded this a few weeks ago in front of a live audience at Old Growth Old Time in Seattle. I say they and not we because this episode of Get Up in the Cool actually had a guest host, Doreen Ditties, of Tradwife Stringband. Tunes in this episode: * Milwaukee Blues (1:20) * Easy Money (Golden Shoals original) (7:58) * Settle Down (16:44) * Turn the Radio On (Golden Shoals original) (28:54) * The New White House Blues (Golden Shoals original + tradition) (33:34) * Blue Railroad Train (Delmore Brothers original) (42:56) Visit Golden Shoals' website (https://goldenshoals.com/) Buy Golden Shoals' albums (https://goldenshoals.bandcamp.com/) Follow Golden Shoals on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/goldenshoals) PayPal GoldenShoals@gmail.com Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

The boys discuss the new Netflix show “Boots,” as well as the current season of “Only Murders in the Building, and offer some new music recs. --- October is GAPING with exclusive content y'all!  JOIN RealityGays+  + Patreon ⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.patreon.com/RealityGays⁠⁠ or  + Supercast ⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://realitygaysmulti.supercast.com/⁠⁠  + Apple Subscriptions https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/reality-gays-with-mattie-and-poodle/id1477555097  +Watch us on video ⁠⁠www.youtube.com/@RealityGays⁠⁠ Click here for all things RG!  ⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/RealityGays⁠ To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Justin Bruce recaps Eggy's five shows opening for Bruce Hornsby & The Noisemakers. Cross-pollination was plentiful during this dreamy run, be it Eggy with Bruce, Bruce with Eggy, or members of the Noisemakers (Gibb Droll and John Mailander) with Eggy.Four albums I'd recommend for anyone new to Bruce Hornsby: 1993's Harbor Lights, 2000's Here Come the Noisemakers, 2011's Bride of the Noisemakers, and 2019's Absolute Zero. Here are my notes re: the 19 Bruce Hornsby albums I listened to to familiarize myself with his catalog.Slide & Banjo article (featuring a Mike Goodman interview) about opening for Bruce.Audience recording of Bruce Hornsby & The Noisemakers from October 4, 2025 at Higher Ground in South Burlington, VermontNugs playlist of highlights from Eggy's opening setsThanks, as always, to the band for their permission to use SBD recordings on this pod.Eggy's tour datesEggy's favorite Bruce Hornsby tracks on Spotify and Apple MusicVice or Virtue is a proud part of Osiris Media.Follow Vice or Virtue on InstagramFollow Justin Bruce on MastodonFollow Vice or Virtue on BlueskyAsk to join the Green Eggs and Fam private Facebook group Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

You might know Steve Martin as a comedy legend, but he's also a serious musician. If you know his early comedy albums, like “A Wild and Crazy Guy,” you might even be familiar with his banjo playing. In recent years, he's gotten a lot more serious about the banjo, joining bluegrass bands and releasing music. Now, he's teamed up with Alison Brown — one of the best banjo players alive — on a new album, “Safe, Sensible And Sane.” Steve and Alison join Tom Power to talk about the record, how they both found their way back to the banjo and what makes their musical collaboration so special.Fill out our listener survey here. We appreciate your input!

WBS: I Don't Know What to Do #332 -- The gang is at it again. Brimstone is joined by his wing-man Alex DaPonte, Meg Suss and Brim's wife Danielle as they chat about the Rise of the Jack-o-Lanterns, where to get some delicious roasted corn, Brim's appearance at the Darkside Arts & Oddities Expo, and the passing of Ace Frehley. They discuss Dr, Dancakes new Brimstone pancake, cat's ear infection, professional ear cleaning, and how Meg finally finished Banjo and Kazooie – it took her 8 hours to beat the boss. Brim explains what gets Within Brim's Skin.

This week we feature fiddle player Deanie Richardson.  Deanie has a long history in bluegrass music and fiddling and is a founding member of the award winning bluegrass band Sister Sadie. We talk with her about her early years playing fiddle contests, her work with the New Coon Creek Girls and various country artists, and the new projects she has been involved with recently.

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is Devin Champlin! We recorded this on Monday at my home in Portland, OR. Tunes in this episode: * Rabbit Under a Collard Leaf (0:47) * Monroe Stomp (15:24) * Trail to Mexico (22:40) * Field of Clover (Devin Champlin original) (35:36) * None of Your Business (43:40) * BONUS TRACK: The Boll Weevil Drag Follow Devin Champlin on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/devin_champlin_/) Buy his albums on Bandcamp (https://devinchamplin.bandcamp.com/) Visit his website (https://www.devinchamplin.com/) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

Both Steve Martin and Alison Brown share a love of the banjo. Videos of the two playing together have gone viral online, and Martin's banjo videos during the pandemic were particularly comforting to many. Brown and Martin talk about their new album, Safe Sensible and Sane, and perform live in the studio.

Graham Sharp is a Grammy winning bluegrass star. He's an accomplished  banjo and guitar player and songwriter. He plays with the Steep Canyon Rangers, a very cool bluegrass band. Graham also has a solo career. And he's been the right hand man for fellow banjoist Steve Martin on record and on stage since 2009.My featured song is “Sunday Slide”, my latest single. Spotify link.------------------------------------------The Follow Your Dream Podcast:Top 1% of all podcasts with Listeners in 200 countries!Click here for All Episodes Click here for Guest List Click here for Guest Groupings Click here for Guest TestimonialsClick here to Subscribe Click here to receive our Email UpdatesClick here to Rate and Review the podcast—----------------------------------------CONNECT WITH GRAHAM:www.grahamsharp.com—----------------------------------------ROBERT'S NEWEST SINGLE:“SUNDAY SLIDE” is Robert's newest single. It's been called “A fun, upbeat, you-gotta-move song”. Featuring 3 World Class guest artists: Laurence Juber on guitar (Wings with Paul McCartney), Paul Hanson on bassoon (Bela Fleck), and Eamon McLoughlin on violin (Grand Ole Opry band).CLICK HERE FOR ALL LINKSCLICK HERE FOR THE OFFICIAL VIDEO—-------------------------------------------ROBERT'S NEWEST ALBUM:“WHAT'S UP!” is Robert's new compilation album. Featuring 10 of his recent singles including all the ones listed below. Instrumentals and vocals. Jazz, Rock, Pop and Fusion. “My best work so far. (Robert)”CLICK HERE FOR THE OFFICIAL VIDEOCLICK HERE FOR ALL LINKS—----------------------------------------Audio production:Jimmy RavenscroftKymera Films Connect with the Follow Your Dream Podcast:Website - www.followyourdreampodcast.comEmail Robert - robert@followyourdreampodcast.com Follow Robert's band, Project Grand Slam, and his music:Website - www.projectgrandslam.comYouTubeSpotify MusicApple MusicEmail - pgs@projectgrandslam.com 

This week we feature fiddler Christian Ward.  As many bluegrass fans know, Christian joined both the Del McCoury band and the Travelin' McCourys after Jason Carter left those bands.  We talk with Christian about his early bluegrass years in California, his songwriting and joining with the McCourys.

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is George Jackson! We recorded this a couple weeks ago in Myrtle Beach. Tunes in this episode: * Rye Straw (0:50) * Tilman Pyeatt's Angeline the Baker (13:46) * Happy Hollow (19:30) * Beef Demon (George Jackson original) (31:54) * Shady Lane (48:02) * BONUS TRACK: Esker Hutchins' Cumberland Gap Join George Jackson's Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/c/georgejackson/posts) Follow him on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/georgefiddle/) Buy George's albums on Bandcamp (https://georgejacksonmusic.bandcamp.com/) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is Kelsey Sutton! We recorded this in September at the Queer and Trans Old Time Music Gathering. Tunes in this episode: * Sail Away Ladies (0:55) * Henry King's Reel (Trevor Stuart original) (13:43) * My Dearest Dear (29:44) * No Ash Will Burn (Walt Aldridge original) (44:30) * Winderslide (52:43) * BONUS TRACK: Western Country Junior Appalachian Musicians (https://jamkids.org/) Donate to Madison County Community Housing Coalition (https://chcmadisoncountync.org/donate/) Watch the dancing in this episode! (https://youtu.be/SgbgDMyBReE) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is Anna RG! We recorded this on Monday over Discord, which we'll get into more in the interview. Tunes in this episode: * The Willow Tree (0:34) * Rock Andy (34:40) * Red Rocking Chair (57:46) * The Death of Harry Simms (Aunt Molly Jackson original) (1:24:49) * Won't You Come and Sing for Me (Hazel Dickens original) (1:59:48) * BONUS TRACK: Lungwort (Anna RG original) Sick center website (https://sickcenter.net/) Follow Covid Action Map on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/covidactionmap/?hl=en) Email Anna RG if you're an old time musician with long covid: sickcenters@gmail.com Come see Tall Poppy String Band in Myrtle Beach (https://www.southbysoutheast.org/) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friend is Greta Hazilla! We recorded this on Sunday at my home in Portland, OR. Tunes in this episode: * The Tattie Ball/Hull's Reel (0:29) * Star of Munster/Siobhan O'Donnell's/Boys of Malin (8:02) * Whiteface (Joe Thrift original) (20:36) * The Sailor's Wife/Julia Delaney's (25:29) * Lady Mary Ramsey Strathspey (32:14) * BONUS TRACK: Virginia Reel Visit Triple File's website (https://triplefile.wixsite.com/triple-file-band) Come see Tall Poppy String Band in Myrtle Beach (https://www.southbysoutheast.org/) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

Welcome to Get Up in the Cool: Old Time Music with Cameron DeWhitt and Friends. This week's friends are you all, because it's another Call Up in the Cool episode; figured we were due for one. These are always super fun, and it's always a bit like pulling teeth to get people to send in questions and requests, so, here's my ask: if you think of a question and a tune request while listening to this episode, record a voice memo or just send an email right now to getupinthecool@gmail.com, and I'll play it or read it on air for the next one! Tunes in this episode: * Clyde Davenport's Sally Ann (1:12) * John Hatcher's Grub Springs (21:30) * Green Valley Waltz (35:06) * Waverly (47:09) * Glory in the Meetinghouse (52:52) * BONUS TRACK: Omie Wise Solo Clawhammer Tunes from Source Recordings online workshop series (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/store) Come see Morgan Harris and I open for Never Come Down in Hood River Sep 12 (https://www.theruins.org/event-details/never-come-down-2) Sign up for the Queer and Trans Old Time Music Gathering! (https://tinyurl.com/QTOTG2025) Support Get Up in the Cool on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/getupinthecool) Send Tax Deductible Donations to Get Up in the Cool through Fracture Atlas (https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/get-up-in-the-cool) Sign up at Pitchfork Banjo for my clawhammer instructional series! (https://www.pitchforkbanjo.com/) Schedule a banjo lesson with Cameron (https://www.camerondewhitt.com/banjolessons) Visit Tall Poppy String Band's website (https://www.tallpoppystringband.com/) and follow us on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/tallpoppystringband/)

Today in news that we wish we never knew about: Xbox's reboot of Perfect Dark was nearly saved! Their dance partner? Take Two Interactive who serves as publisher of Rockstar. Yes, indeed, a recent report states that these two were working out a deal similar to Xbox selling off Tango Gameworks alongside the Hi Fi Rush IP to Krafton in order to help the company. Unfortunately, a falling out between both sides occurred over an IP ownership dispute. Now, Perfect Dark is doomed to sit in "IP Jail" with many of Xbox's other abandoned properties. At least Banjo has some company now. Please keep in mind that our timestamps are approximate, and will often be slightly off due to dynamic ad placement. 0:00:00 - Intro0:02:40 - Health Is Wealth0:23:57 - Our preview philosophy0:35:17 - Is The Outer Worlds 2 hate overblown?0:50:30 - What games should you play soon?0:54:23 - Call Of Duty is entering the movie business1:00:49 - Gears Of War Reloaded numbers are in1:12:16 - Helldivers 2 is the #1 paid game on the Xbox store1:23:23 - Grounded 2 seems to be doing very well1:28:52 - 007 First Light impressions1:36:14 - PlayStation 6 will be a handheld?1:48:20 - Epic responds to Unreal Engine 5 concerns2:02:20 - Ubisoft's 2026 and 2027 games2:10:54 - What's going on with Cyberpunk 2077?2:14:25 - Kojima event may show off OD2:17:05 - What We're Playing3:10:24 - Perfect Dark was nearly revived3:28:05 - Coming soon to Xbox Game Pass3:40:56 - Game Pass Pick Of The Week Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Russillo is joined by Béla Fleck to discuss how he chose the banjo, his path to success, and what it's like to have other artists look up to him. (0:00) Welcome to The Ryen Russillo Podcast! (4:03) How did you become proficient at the banjo? (6:30) When did you feel like you were taking this instrument in a different direction? (12:44) How did your plan differ from the outcome? (19:07) On the magic of performing live (27:02) What did playing with bigger bands do for your awareness? (29:27) What does it mean to you that other artists look up to you? (31:37) Do you have to be obsessed to reach greatness? Check us out on YouTube for exclusive clips, livestreams, and more at https://www.youtube.com/@RyenRussilloPodcast. The Ringer is committed to responsible gaming. Please visit www.rg-help.com to learn more about the resources and helplines available. Host: Ryen Russillo Guest: Béla Fleck Producers: Steve Ceruti, Kyle Crichton, Mike Wargon, and Jonathan Frias Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Charles surprises Link with another incredible Charles Roan performance, and Nana pops in to say hello. Plus, Charles recaps Lily's big visit to Myrtle Beach, and shares some unfortunate news about his lifelong friend, Banjo. C'mon and have a good time with us! To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices