dada generator

poking around the net found a very old set of pages for interactive surrealist practice. i got this personal profile generated from the DADA server. a bunch of interesting things branch off from banjo ruthless creations some mad scientist or other.

i did it twice, the second result is posted below in higher resolution, so click on the thumbnail.

new song Random Walk

Random Walk – song

Created February 2010

weaving

I don’t usually put up song lyrics, because usually what works with singing doesn’t work as well when the music is stripped away.  It is all part of a whole.  So I’ve held off on posting my musical production. Tomorrow it will be one year that I’ve had the guitar, and just over a year since I’ve started turning bits and pieces into proper songs. Since Jan 2009, I’ve accumulated six for voice plus guitar, three for guitar only, six or seven for voice only (including this one), and a couple more that are fragments or under development.

I rather think this new piece can hold its own as words only, so here goes. It is sung bluesy, of course.  I don’t have musical accompaniment for it yet. The images are from Bricolage but fit the sense of the song, too. It was initially inspired by listening to Bernadette O’Grady at the Arts Centre, and then built up with other images from the following days.

If you want to know more about what a random walk is, see Daniel A. Becker’s project for some nice visualisations (warning – mathematics involved, however, non-mathies should be able to get the concepts and appreciate the stunning visuals).

Random Walk

by Mary Jacob

Your heart is a loom, weaving out something
soft and subtle and blue.
Your heart is a loom, weaving out something
soft and subtle and blue.

I see the warp, I see the weave,
strands of colours, oh rich beyond belief.
I see blood red, and midnight blue.
I see the green in your eyes when no one’s looking at you.

I feel the warmth that you extend
and I see the tremble, oh, the trembling in your hand.
I see the skies when they go dark at noon
and I see the light on your face from the perigee moon.

I see the tapestry that you weave.
I see the random walk,
oh I see the random walk,
yeah I see the random walk
and the footprints that you leave.

I see rich colours, oh beyond belief.
I see the many soft and subtle strands you weave.

The tapestry flowing out of your heart
records the random walk,
records the random walk,
it records the random walk
of your life since the day you were born.

It flows out into the world
with or without your will.
It wraps itself around you
and it comforts you still.

weaving