Saturday, March 26, 2016

Tonya Kay: "The Things that Make Us Human"

You can read our interview (in 2 parts) with Tonya Kay here.

And this is from her blog:

This ritual is dedicated to the things that make us human. Postcards, rocking chairs, rain storms, eye contact. Kissing.

This ritual is dedicated to staying in bed sick. Mending socks. Crows at sunset. Senior citizens.

My humanness is under attack daily. Devices, commercials, aspiration, plastic containers. Coffins.Tooth whitening, auto-tuning, retouching, CGI.....(read the rest HERE)

Friday, March 25, 2016

Ray Kurzweil receives 2015 Technical Grammy Award

Ray Kurzweil received the 2015 Technical Grammy Award on February 7, 2015 for his outstanding achievements in the field of music technology.

One of his primary inventions paved the way for re-creating acoustic instruments with electronic equivalents.

The Technical Grammy Award is a Special Merit Award presented by vote of the National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences Trustees, for contributions of outstanding technical significance to the recording field.....

Read it all HERE.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Poem Series: Wildflowers and Splinters

Wildflowers and Splinters

Liz Fink-Davenport

Some things are too hard to write about. Some things stay trapped behind a heavy tongue and the dark of your eyes. Too heartbreakingly glass to risk outside the body soft. Some things are 2am thieves.

Tell me. When it's too hard. You can tell me. I want your words. Like moths gathered and pulled close by a glow in my ribs. I don't want to keep quiet. I want to cry to the cracks in the mountains. I want to whisper to the creek bed rocks. I want my words on the air that carries the leaves and geese.

Your lips will be the last I kiss. Your breath will be the last I share mouth to mouth. Your hands tangled in my hair and your fingers under my chin tilting my face towards yours...will be the last fingers. Last hand.

The boy who climbs fences to pick wild flowers will be the last boy. But it's too hard to say. Not my words. Yours. Coaxed out like a splinter. Flowers left on my pillow. Fingers tracing my jaw as they leave. 2am stealing my last kiss. My Wildflower Boy. Outside the body. Too soft.