Thursday, September 17, 2020
Friday, July 21, 2017
The Legend Continues; the Next Generation.
Looking back, I see all our past ancestors to the beginning.
I see their joys and struggles, all leading up to this day.
I feel the fruition of their love & lives as you join us here.
You are a manifestation of those loves & lives.
You have left the comfort of the great collective spirit as you come here.
We welcome you with all the love of ourselves and our ancestors.
We thank you for choosing us as your family.
Let none of us ever lose sight of these things, or how we came to be here.
Rather, let us celebrate each day we live, and take comfort in the knowledge that love is given freely and without condition in our tribe. While life in this world is not without disappointment, tragedy and struggle, let it not be without the love and caring of family.
Remember to be true to yourself, and to be bold; to proudly carry the torch of discovery into the unknown of the future. Those things watch carefully, for they are both our weakest points and our greatest allies. Dream deeply and look hard at details around you. Possibilities are endless here.
Find your independence early, but never forget the connection that family brings.
Their love will offer you strength through the darkest days, but you must also find it in yourself.
Above all, remember that there is no one greater or lesser than you, only different.
These differences are what make this trip to earthly life so fulfilling.
Do not be afraid to find your voice, and sing out loud enough to be heard.
All of us are beautiful in one way or another. Let yours shine when you can.
On this day, Friday, July 21st, 2017, we welcome you to the world, daughter of my daughter;
Mia Vivian De La Cruz Aponte
I see their joys and struggles, all leading up to this day.
I feel the fruition of their love & lives as you join us here.
You are a manifestation of those loves & lives.
You have left the comfort of the great collective spirit as you come here.
We welcome you with all the love of ourselves and our ancestors.
We thank you for choosing us as your family.
Let none of us ever lose sight of these things, or how we came to be here.
Rather, let us celebrate each day we live, and take comfort in the knowledge that love is given freely and without condition in our tribe. While life in this world is not without disappointment, tragedy and struggle, let it not be without the love and caring of family.
Remember to be true to yourself, and to be bold; to proudly carry the torch of discovery into the unknown of the future. Those things watch carefully, for they are both our weakest points and our greatest allies. Dream deeply and look hard at details around you. Possibilities are endless here.
Find your independence early, but never forget the connection that family brings.
Their love will offer you strength through the darkest days, but you must also find it in yourself.
Above all, remember that there is no one greater or lesser than you, only different.
These differences are what make this trip to earthly life so fulfilling.
Do not be afraid to find your voice, and sing out loud enough to be heard.
All of us are beautiful in one way or another. Let yours shine when you can.
On this day, Friday, July 21st, 2017, we welcome you to the world, daughter of my daughter;
Mia Vivian De La Cruz Aponte
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Blood From A Stone - The Song Sampler
This album was recorded at the live-in studio of the Skull Club, in New Orleans, Louisiana.
Working outside of record company or producer influence, the project was allowed to develop naturally, over time. While the songs were mostly written just prior to recording, much of the development was done as they evolved during that process.
'Siren', as an example, began as a short acoustic piece, and was rewritten in the studio.
"It's Just Me", however, was a first take recording of the first time the song was played though.
With the exception of drums and the invited contributions of friends, all of the instrumental parts on these recordings were written and played by yours truly. It was my intent that there be little outside influence, no label, no producer.
I wanted this to be personal, between just you and me.
While each song stands on it's own, the album was also designed to be heard as a continuing piece, taking the listener on a journey of imagination.
It is my sincerest hope that you enjoy the ride.
Lord David
Skull Club
New Orleans
https://www.cdbaby.com/cd/lorddavid
Working outside of record company or producer influence, the project was allowed to develop naturally, over time. While the songs were mostly written just prior to recording, much of the development was done as they evolved during that process.
'Siren', as an example, began as a short acoustic piece, and was rewritten in the studio.
"It's Just Me", however, was a first take recording of the first time the song was played though.
With the exception of drums and the invited contributions of friends, all of the instrumental parts on these recordings were written and played by yours truly. It was my intent that there be little outside influence, no label, no producer.
I wanted this to be personal, between just you and me.
While each song stands on it's own, the album was also designed to be heard as a continuing piece, taking the listener on a journey of imagination.
It is my sincerest hope that you enjoy the ride.
Lord David
Skull Club
New Orleans
https://www.cdbaby.com/cd/lorddavid
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Lord David - CD Release
Well, after what seems like a lifetime of waiting, the CD, Blood From A Stone, is mastered, printed and in my hands. I'm pretty happy with the final result.
I feel I would be remiss if I didn't give shout out to local sound engineer and magician, David Farrel for his mastering wizardry and calm, Yoda-like presence & endless knowledge.
He was originally recommended by another ex-local music luminary, Mark Bingham, of the former Piety Street Studios. I was not sent astray.
A brief look at David's collection of gold records and Grammy awards dissolved any doubts that may have been building. Once we sat down to work, it was an effortless road of discovery, getting the best sound possible from the format at hand. Somehow, the chore became a very pleasurable experience.
I would also like to thank my friends in the local music ranks who came by to contribute some appearances, making this recording a much better listening experience, and taking the time to see my vision of where it was going, adding their talents along the way.
Including:
Dave Easley - pedal steel guitar
Tom Chute - drums
Keith Hajjar - drums
Ratty Scurvics - Drums
Francene Machetto - backing vocals and bass guitar
Irene Sage - backing vocals
Katy & Shanece - backing vocals
Tommy Giblin - harmonica
Hubie Vigreux - chimes
The digital download & music sampler are HERE.
Further announcements will be on this blog, and here, on the Lord David Music Facebook page
This recording was done at the Skull Club, in downtown New Orleans, without the input of any label, producer or outside entity. The idea was to create an homage to rock & roll, rock, blues and ballads, even a sort of sea-shanty, in a personal way. It was my intention to create for, and share with, listeners directly. I hope this offers some small glimpse into those various styles.
Finally, I am often told how much music fans miss 'the old stuff', made during that heady time when songs stood on their own, as they do now, but the collection of them also worked in it's entirety.
I would ask that one take 45 minutes out of their busy day and join me on this trip through imagination & song.
I look forward to hearing feedback from any & all of you.
Mad love,
Lord David
Skull Club
New Orleans
Sunday, May 15, 2016
The Thing That Wouldn't Die.
Last
Monday I went and saw a cardiologist, because I had what is called
'calcium score' done. It determines the amount of calcium (ie: blockage)
currently in your heart. Normal is 100 or less. Anything over 300 is
bad, anything over 400 means you're headed for a heart attack. Mine was
422.
After a couple of EKG's (to be sure of results) and a sonogram of my heart, my Cardiologist told me I had had at least one minor heart attack already, probably two. (I was busy living and didn't notice). I was scheduled for an angiogram on the 25th of this month. That procedure is done with a catheter inserted into your heart via artery from your wrist or thigh. Dye is shot in and x-rayed to show any blockage.
I'd been experiencing mild but regular chest tightness, and was anxious to have this done. However...last Thursday, I experienced light headedness, confusion, a spreading ache down my left arm and up into my neck. It became hard to draw a breath and I thought I would faint. I knew I was going to lose consciousness sooner than later.
Luckily, my friend and business associate, Jenny Bender, was here and insisted I call 911, walked me down the stairs and stayed to make sure I was awake until the EMTs arrived. I now have no doubt that this saved my life. (Thanks Jenny!)
The EMT's worked on me during the ride, keeping my vacillating blood pressure stabilized, and continued to do so as I was checked into the ER, where the ER staff took over. It took a couple of hours, but they got my heartbeat and pressure under control, and I was admitted overnight.
The angiogram was performed the next morning (by my own cardiologist who has rounds there, lucky for me), and it was determined that, besides that damage done to my heart by previous heart attacks (I wish they'd left a note), one of the four arteries in my heart was 90% blocked. They applied angioplasty and a stent on the spot. (Angioplasty is the insertion and filling of a balloon to open closed arterial passages. A stent is a tiny cage inserted to keep it open.)
This was all done through a catheter inserted into the artery in my right wrist, requiring only a band-aid for recovery. I was kept over night again, and released Saturday afternoon, feeling much better than I have in a year. My prognosis is that I could easily live another decade or more ( I am now 60), if I take the proper medications and stay away from drugs and alcohol, something I've done pretty much for the last ten years. The staying away, that is.
The only blockage has been dealt with, although the issue of low action to my left ventricle, due largely to being a wild ass druggie and booze hound for 30 years, (Bolivia owes me a statue, I think. You, too, Kentucky bourbon country.) may or may not correct itself in time. In either case, I am on these medications anyway, so I'm taking it day by day, doing my diligence, and hoping for the best.
In short, I'm back, stronger and mentally sharper than I have been for a year, infused with a new desire to wring every moment out of life, and, having spent a night, alone, contemplating that it may be my last, find myself unafraid of what comes next. I am convinced this epic journey we experience does not end.
When the time comes, I intend to ride that final flush of DMT into my dying brain right on through to the other side. In the meantime, there is no longer any fear of death in me. Only a desire to get a few certain things done, and continue to monitor this amazing thing we call life, the science behind it, and those who would attempt to control it in the rest of us.
For the time being, I am still here, still creating, still watching.
The moral of this story is simple:
You are who you are and nobody can take that from you unless you allow it.
Be free, experience love and life whenever possible.
Nurture compassion and acceptance in yourself and others.
Contribute to your community, in terms of personal effort, your own creative vision, and the monitoring of those who steal these things from all of us.
Be unafraid, my friends.
We Will All Die.
It's how you choose to live that really matters.
Do it now.
After a couple of EKG's (to be sure of results) and a sonogram of my heart, my Cardiologist told me I had had at least one minor heart attack already, probably two. (I was busy living and didn't notice). I was scheduled for an angiogram on the 25th of this month. That procedure is done with a catheter inserted into your heart via artery from your wrist or thigh. Dye is shot in and x-rayed to show any blockage.
I'd been experiencing mild but regular chest tightness, and was anxious to have this done. However...last Thursday, I experienced light headedness, confusion, a spreading ache down my left arm and up into my neck. It became hard to draw a breath and I thought I would faint. I knew I was going to lose consciousness sooner than later.
Luckily, my friend and business associate, Jenny Bender, was here and insisted I call 911, walked me down the stairs and stayed to make sure I was awake until the EMTs arrived. I now have no doubt that this saved my life. (Thanks Jenny!)
The EMT's worked on me during the ride, keeping my vacillating blood pressure stabilized, and continued to do so as I was checked into the ER, where the ER staff took over. It took a couple of hours, but they got my heartbeat and pressure under control, and I was admitted overnight.
The angiogram was performed the next morning (by my own cardiologist who has rounds there, lucky for me), and it was determined that, besides that damage done to my heart by previous heart attacks (I wish they'd left a note), one of the four arteries in my heart was 90% blocked. They applied angioplasty and a stent on the spot. (Angioplasty is the insertion and filling of a balloon to open closed arterial passages. A stent is a tiny cage inserted to keep it open.)
This was all done through a catheter inserted into the artery in my right wrist, requiring only a band-aid for recovery. I was kept over night again, and released Saturday afternoon, feeling much better than I have in a year. My prognosis is that I could easily live another decade or more ( I am now 60), if I take the proper medications and stay away from drugs and alcohol, something I've done pretty much for the last ten years. The staying away, that is.
The only blockage has been dealt with, although the issue of low action to my left ventricle, due largely to being a wild ass druggie and booze hound for 30 years, (Bolivia owes me a statue, I think. You, too, Kentucky bourbon country.) may or may not correct itself in time. In either case, I am on these medications anyway, so I'm taking it day by day, doing my diligence, and hoping for the best.
In short, I'm back, stronger and mentally sharper than I have been for a year, infused with a new desire to wring every moment out of life, and, having spent a night, alone, contemplating that it may be my last, find myself unafraid of what comes next. I am convinced this epic journey we experience does not end.
When the time comes, I intend to ride that final flush of DMT into my dying brain right on through to the other side. In the meantime, there is no longer any fear of death in me. Only a desire to get a few certain things done, and continue to monitor this amazing thing we call life, the science behind it, and those who would attempt to control it in the rest of us.
For the time being, I am still here, still creating, still watching.
The moral of this story is simple:
You are who you are and nobody can take that from you unless you allow it.
Be free, experience love and life whenever possible.
Nurture compassion and acceptance in yourself and others.
Contribute to your community, in terms of personal effort, your own creative vision, and the monitoring of those who steal these things from all of us.
Be unafraid, my friends.
We Will All Die.
It's how you choose to live that really matters.
Do it now.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Mindfulness and Walking The Walk.
There is a term frequently used in modern Buddhism, called 'mindfulness', which among other things, focuses on being aware of one's own thoughts and actions, as well as their effect, in the moment.
It is often used and developed during meditation.
An expansion of this process is the awareness of one's self as part of a larger whole, community or society. Unless one lives in complete hermitude, it is impossible to NOT have an effect on those around you, at least on some level.
With that in mind, I'd like to offer some observations.
I've recently posted a segment from the documentary, Soul Food, linked here.
The opening line lays it all out....
"There is no better example of racism in the 21st century than the relationship of black people and access to healthy foods."
This is a symptom of a larger picture. Black neighborhoods often remain under developed, becoming home to liquor stores, pawn shops and bodegas, clearly demonstrating that the goal is for inhabitants there to become alcoholics, pawn their possessions, and live off of expensive and unhealthy food choices.
Sure, those communities have a history of liking many of those foods, but white communities have fresh grocery stores competing with fast food, pizza and po-boy shops, rarely relying on gas station munchies for nutrition, and having big box stores for non-food items, where black neighborhoods are more likely limited to Dollar Store crap.
As these 'minority' neighborhoods develop beyond that scope, it is often because monied, whiter parties have followed poorer whites into them, discover the lower housing costs, and move in for the kill, displacing the traditional, generational families who live there, and jacking up housing prices to drive them out. This is the process we call 'gentrification'.
There are, of course, places where these issues are more economic that racial, but the effect is still the same.
As the neighborhoods begin to gentrify, the new developers open more high end outlets, whether it's Whole Foods, high end food courts, or bistro specialty shops, designed for higher income citizens.
Sometimes, these new 'developments' are made using government grants, designed to improve the neighborhoods of poorer Americans, with those grants being manipulated to allow developers to increase the housing value and drive them out (Pres Kabacoff is a master of this).
So when I see white, self declared 'progressives' sitting at the St Roch Market, which was built with money predominantly (2.3 million out of 3.2 spent) ear marked for redeveloping under privileged neighborhoods, decimated by the Federal Flood, and toasting themselves for their 'open mindedness' and ability to be 'color blind', I wonder if they know how full of shit they really are.
It's a parade of mindless white privilege at the very site of black exclusion.
And yes, I've heard the "But black people work there" excuse. How many black people work for New Orleans Building Corporation, who rents that place out at astronomical rates?
It is was most recently run by deputy Mayor Cedric Grant, who, while African American, is also behind the fencing off of areas under the expressway to displace the homeless. Nice.
Before him? "Developer Sean Cummings replaced Ford as executive director under Nagin."
In short, before you praise yourself on your modern progressive attitude, how about a little mindfulness? You may be cheering yourself on the grave of those you claim to protect.
It is often used and developed during meditation.
An expansion of this process is the awareness of one's self as part of a larger whole, community or society. Unless one lives in complete hermitude, it is impossible to NOT have an effect on those around you, at least on some level.
With that in mind, I'd like to offer some observations.
I've recently posted a segment from the documentary, Soul Food, linked here.
The opening line lays it all out....
"There is no better example of racism in the 21st century than the relationship of black people and access to healthy foods."
This is a symptom of a larger picture. Black neighborhoods often remain under developed, becoming home to liquor stores, pawn shops and bodegas, clearly demonstrating that the goal is for inhabitants there to become alcoholics, pawn their possessions, and live off of expensive and unhealthy food choices.
Sure, those communities have a history of liking many of those foods, but white communities have fresh grocery stores competing with fast food, pizza and po-boy shops, rarely relying on gas station munchies for nutrition, and having big box stores for non-food items, where black neighborhoods are more likely limited to Dollar Store crap.
As these 'minority' neighborhoods develop beyond that scope, it is often because monied, whiter parties have followed poorer whites into them, discover the lower housing costs, and move in for the kill, displacing the traditional, generational families who live there, and jacking up housing prices to drive them out. This is the process we call 'gentrification'.
There are, of course, places where these issues are more economic that racial, but the effect is still the same.
As the neighborhoods begin to gentrify, the new developers open more high end outlets, whether it's Whole Foods, high end food courts, or bistro specialty shops, designed for higher income citizens.
Sometimes, these new 'developments' are made using government grants, designed to improve the neighborhoods of poorer Americans, with those grants being manipulated to allow developers to increase the housing value and drive them out (Pres Kabacoff is a master of this).
So when I see white, self declared 'progressives' sitting at the St Roch Market, which was built with money predominantly (2.3 million out of 3.2 spent) ear marked for redeveloping under privileged neighborhoods, decimated by the Federal Flood, and toasting themselves for their 'open mindedness' and ability to be 'color blind', I wonder if they know how full of shit they really are.
It's a parade of mindless white privilege at the very site of black exclusion.
And yes, I've heard the "But black people work there" excuse. How many black people work for New Orleans Building Corporation, who rents that place out at astronomical rates?
It is was most recently run by deputy Mayor Cedric Grant, who, while African American, is also behind the fencing off of areas under the expressway to displace the homeless. Nice.
Before him? "Developer Sean Cummings replaced Ford as executive director under Nagin."
In short, before you praise yourself on your modern progressive attitude, how about a little mindfulness? You may be cheering yourself on the grave of those you claim to protect.
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