Letters #2: Influences

When you’re starting out you may find that there are many writers and musicians whose work you dig, but I'd keep an eye out for those who really knock your socks off, who make you want to dance naked in the street, howl at the moon and make love to strangers; who, when you read …

Who Profits?

Words & Music by Ren Michael I need a good friend Who goes on more than instinct Though when you show me the source Don’t pretend not to blink You claim to report But now you tell me what to think I’m over it man I’m here the brink I’ll see you at home I’ll …

Stationhouse Blues

This is the first song that I recorded, chopped and produced on my own, the first that I had fully ready to go even before the debut album,   However, at the time, it didn’t quite fit with the rest of the songs on deck, and I was more keen on releasing a full album …

Cambria Kicks

Tucked away on California’s central coast, just a mile or so south of San Simeon leading into Big Sur, the small seaside village of Cambria is home to great people, beautiful weather and stunning coastal shoreline. For all you romantic lovers out there looking for a sweet spot for anniversaries or maybe your Valentines weekend, …

Kerouac

I read your words late this morning to rock and roll in the living room booming, resounding as clouds roll, overcast in mysterious oncoming afternoon daze......... Are we here? Is everybody in? Is that working now. Is it just me? Do I type too fast? I am just? Trying to type my poem, for Kerouac …

Orphan in Toledo

Note from the Editor: Cal Corso. Actor, poet, frenetic wild child and the natural leader of this band of hooligans. Orphaned as a small boy and raised by his aunt. Moved to California in 2017 accompanied by Jude Moonlight where he fell in with an odd assortment of characters and has since been leapfrogging from …

#24/8

I keep reading about your life wanting to know more and see, increasingly how much one can learn from you, by your example. your level of commitment your discipline, vision your athleticism and focus a keen intellect. with respect to your craft and further… a heightened awareness of self a devotion to your family and …

catching up

Well friends it’s been a busy year. I’ve been trying to write my book, and fortunately I’ve been able to do more than just try.  I've actually finished my first manuscript.  Yea man, in between the extremes of do or do not, I've opted for the positive. Yoda would be happy. The songs are coming …

there’s a carnival tonight

Last night I stepped into a carnival. Quite literally.  We were coming in from downtown and as we emerged from the LA underground at the Santa Monica/Vermont metro station we found ourselves surrounded by neon lights and funnel cake, bumper cars and clowns. The damn clowns. Anyone who knows me well knows that I’ve developed …

let it all be a dream

I can feel myself drifting farther from you a glass plane framed between us in a cold, dark room I can’t feel myself breathe neither, no just a weight in my chest bringing me down I can’t catch my breath where have my friends gone? how long can I go? I feel used up, wasted …

LA Renaissance #1

The Hungarian rhapsody by dear ol' friend Franz Liszt as I've read the words aloud to myself and feel that I might recite them all as they become bonded to my own in soul, as I proclaim this new music of ours o'er the cliffs of Cambria at Moonstone Beach, as my forebears brought me …

typing late at night

typing late at night the halls are silent kitchen’s quiet, all I hear is the tapping of the keys the low hum of the fridge and the sound of the lonesome rider driving in the night, as ever down Normandie I hear him the lone rider he’s outside my window waiting not quite lonely, no …

staying grateful during a headcold

Yea I’m grateful to breathe at the least, and hey I've got my lady with me as she calls out rigatoni, time to eat it’s you and me, baby with our pup Sunny and a box of kleenex I’m grateful for you for our friends and our family and like I say thankful just to …

One True Home

have the ashes settled over discord & broken glass to take a stand? as the storm approaches equalizing all to a barren land and surely, we know we must, and so shall we trust one another invest in eachother to save ourselves our home? this globe here we are, we stand alone I know but …

He Ain’t Me

the city's alive you best believe you can look into its eyes you can feel it breathe city of night, so open and lonesome the quiet scream I'm still waking from the long strung-out dreams you see once again I’s tricked just like I said I's bamboozled in the moonlight, as she’d met some other …

Steam Rises at Grand Prismatic

My first recollection is the steam rising ominously from the surface, from the pools that weren't visible from where I initially stood just before I started toward them. I call them pools because at first glance, that's what they looked like. Beautiful to look upon. Clear and strikingly blue. They reminded me of the waters …

how it began. I hear that train a-comin’

John 'Jack' Lucious Quinby is a journalist who specializes in current affairs and American music. Jude Moonlight is a musician and songwriter, a blues singer and guitar playin' vagabond. The following is a transcript of one in several conversations between the two friends, though the date of the recording is unknown.  We are quite sure …

Aren’t You Glad It’s Not You?

Lyrics by Ren Michael I want to send you my love I want to tell you I’m proud I want to hear your voice, son I want you with me now You over my shoulders Your young hand in mine As you stand next to me As I know you’re alive I can’t find the …

Village Song

There is a feeling I get Watching this show Villagers in the wasteland Villagers out in the forests of our escaping Here we are When we learn to let go Of our obsessions Our desires, our possessions Our mental discussions And simply enjoy the quiet The waves on the beach The whisper of the wind …

twin palms

People passerby in the afternoon sun twin palms at my side I don't worry none, no I'm sittin' on top of the world. drinking my piñon as the harmonica plays, the other day I didn't know my own name but I see now the reflection, as I read the buried poems of a 60-year old …

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