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january 09

Rachel - Spanish Speedway

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.Here’s what to expect on tailcast in the early part of this year:

- New homepage- New quickbrowse page (so you can see content by medium and category from any page and by latest, highest rated and featured)- Audio Player v2 with cover art (picture fl ow) and related music videos- Shop to sell artwork in cards and on posters- e-book publishing- our own tailcast video options and much more!

We are testing out ways to embed electronic books and magazines. We are starting by uploading all of our previous tailspins in the community section.

Next month we will enable you to upload pdf and word documents to be converted into ebooks and displayed on the site using scribd’s software platform. This means your work also gets additional marketing on the net.

Looking forward to your feedback. In the meantime, enjoy the latest offering of art and writing from the members of www.tailcast.com

Happy new year!

cont

ents

.3. Blogs on Tailcast Milas Year-end Ramblings6. Jonny Randomness... that’s Jonny8. Hyla Levy How the Grinch Stole 200910. Art on Tailcast Tom Edible Musicians11. Steve Shotgun Shells13. Crazydiamond Stranded 15. Edward Garvin Neuron Wallpaper17. Sushiko Telamone18. Mis-BUG First Step19. Stella Abstract21. Pseudo Silo22. Willhardi Tikkaat23. Writing on Tailcast Velvetlungs Dear Doppelganger25. Penitent Dream-Convergence27. Jessica Dennison Hold To Yourself29. Richard Lowery Home31. David Barron Inner Peace33. Dimz Rivers36. Noey The Frost37. Jakkyl Would It Kill You To Smile?

3. 4.

Here it is - the end of 2008. I can’t help but wonder what happened to this year. It seems to have been one of the shortest years I’ve ever experienced. I just had Christmas dinner with the relatives a few months ago. And here we are, thawing out another turkey. Last night I made the rounds to the mall and the super stores, collecting all the gift cards the nephew and nieces will get as this year’s contribution. I’d prefer to buy gifts, I suppose. But kids grow up so fast. Their tastes change overnight. And forget asking for gift ideas. No one ever suggests anything but gift cards. I used to buy books and art supplies for the kids. I’ve always tried to encourage reading and imagination, usually with things that also encourage their spiritual growth. But with all the new techno-gadgets Santa brings them, their excitement over anything as archaic as a book has noticeably dwindled over the years. So I give up. And Santa is now on my list, the peckerhead. I looked at my nephew’s Myspace page this =morning and discovered that he is suddenly into country and western music. I’m glad we have that in common; but it’s sure a good thing that I opted for gift cards, rather than music CDs. I would have bombed if I had bought music.

I guess my dissatisfaction with the way Christmas has changed since I was a kid is nothing new. I hear people complain about the secularism and the consumerism from the time the stores set up their Christmas displays across the aisle from the Halloween clearance until we’ve fi nished making our gift exchanges after the big day. Yet, nothing seems to change.

Milas - Year-end Ramblings

And this year, things will remain the same in my family. I have to get to the family gathering far too early in the day - so our side can do the gift swap before the other side shows up for dinner. Apparently, it would be traumatic if the in-laws watched as I unwrap my ironically sloganed coffee mug when there aren’t any gifts for them at this particular gathering. But I suspect any trauma would apply only to our worrisome hostess. I won’t go into all the other strange things that dampen the Christmas spirit for me. But I’ve decided that it’s time to change the few things I can control. I’ve never really caught on to the idea that we are in a new century, a new millennium. I was born late enough in the 20th century that I grew up knowing I would be around for the new one. But until they tried to cause world-wide panic with all that hoo-ha about computers switching over to 2000, I’d never given any thought to a new millennium. Gotta say, so far, I’m unimpressed. All that is to say, I don’t really “celebrate” New Years. I don’t dress up and go to parties. I don’t pop open the bubbly. Heck, I don’t always stay up until midnight. So needless to say, I have never bothered with resolutions. Resolutions are promises you make to yourself to stop doing what you know you should never have started doing, or to start doing things you know you should have been doing all along. And when you break those promises, you don’t think, “Wow, I’m not as disciplined as I imagined myself to be.” No, instead you think, “What a loser.” And here is where I contradict myself. I’ve made some decisions that certainly seem like resolutions. But I’ve decided that I am not going to call them such. In fact, I’m skipping New Years and heading straight into my fi rst plan of action…spring cleaning. Next weekend while the rest of you cats are nursing hangovers, I’ll be separating my worldly possessions into “Keep”, “Toss” and “Charity” piles. The accumulation of junk in my life has gotten out of control. Enough is enough. Okay, fi ne. I’ll admit that this is something like a list of resolutions. Sue me. The other big decision I’ve made is the epitome of a resolution. Only a few

blogs on tailcast

3. 4.years ago I was a skinny vegetarian who walked a lot, and who secretly practiced a few yoga poses. I was happy, healthy, and had a lot of energy. I don’t know when or how it happened but I’m no longer a vegetarian. I probably never will be one again. I like seafood too much. But I’m also no longer skinny. I’m not fat. But growing up skinny, people notice when you put on a few pounds…40 in my case. And will someone please tell me why people think it’s acceptable to comment on my weight gain?! Do they think because I’m a dude that I’m not protected under the guidelines of political correctness? Something about weight gain brings out other peoples’ knack for stating the obvious. Maybe I’ll start responding by pointing out a few obvious things myself - see how they like them apples. So, I complained to a friend recently that I’m having trouble losing weight, but thank goodness I’ve stopped gaining. Well, the 5 pounds since Thanksgiving has changed my attitude. I am tired of slipping on my loafers because it’s soo much easier than tying my shoes, or taking off my cowboy boots. I’m tired of my intestines crying in pain when I finally loosen my belt at the end of the day. And to think, I used to get irritated that I couldn’t find jeans to fit my skinny waist with a long enough inseam to fit my legs! And there’s my other decision. I’m going back to my healthier lifestyle. I’ve already started walking and attempting to practice yoga again. I still have the mind of a skinny person. I haven’t gotten comfortable with being chunky yet. So I expect a full recovery. Of course, I broke down and bought a new pair of jeans last night – as a Christmas gift to my gut. But on a positive note…I’ve now got my fat jeans to show off when I get skinny again. Well, I started writing this to tell everyone at Tailcast to have a wonderful Christmas, and/or a happy Hanukkah. I didn’t plan to write an essay. But I’ve been sort of quiet around here in recent weeks…blame the lingering nasty bronchial infection I picked up after Thanksgiving. I’m all better now. Anyway, I ended up writing everything

I’ve had on my mind lately. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!

Lapislazuline - Refraction

6.

I’m on my bed, grooving away to 1985 by bowling for soup. Hehe, in a good mood. Oooh yes ghostbusters theme tune now :D ..... do do dod oooooooooooo do do dod oooooooooo . Who ya gonna call?? GHOSTBUSTERS.... yes I know you’ve stumbled apon a random post and you’re probably thinking what on earth haha....

I just love a bit of classic music, doesn’t everyone? Maybe secretly they do... Nothing like a good tune.. wonders what other people’s feel good tunes are? Yup well I originally came on here to write a little poem or something but I got sidetracked, story of my life haha. I was watching some of the tennis on tv and it reminded me of Mrs todd, a lady I did gardening for and she would always invite me afterwards and we would have a drink and some biscuits, shealways had the plate and tin out already for me and we would sit there often with some sport on on the telly and have a chat :) She was in her late 70’s or early 80’s, but yes she left us this year, so I was reminicsing over that, I miss those times with her. Old people are awesome. This lead me to think about my friend who died on November 30th 1999, never got to see the year 2000..and wondering what he might have been up to now, so a toast to those loved and gone :) I knew a lady in the village you lived through 3 centurys! She was born in the 1800’s and lived right through till 2001. 103 when she died. Mrs Morse :) Lovely little old lady who always got loads of cakes out for us when we went to visit her with Mummy. And I was quite small then and used to play with her washing pegs :) I can still see those glasses for the squash she had and the table and the room. The quaint house she lived in is now completely altered, times change but the memories still live on :) Only in the last 6 months of her life did she have to go into a home, now thats something to accomplish, being independent at that age. Haha what a random little post this is, but I like it, there you go an insight into my random head and village life and things. Hope you made it this far and didn’t fi nd it boring :)

Jonny - Randomness...that’s Jonny

7.

Leg - Face In Sun

I got a gift for the holidays! Visa upped my credit limit by $1000! Did I ask for a credit increase? NO. Did they ask me if I wanted an increase? NO. I called to see how much money I had left on my card – I’m always at or near my limit – and that’s how I found out. A few days ago. And it made me very angry.

What were they thinking? “Hmmmm. Now here’s someone who pays her minimum balance on time, is at her maximum credit limit, doesn’t make a ton of money (to pay off her balance) – the perfect candidate for a credit increase!” My limit was raised on December 16. Tis the season where people SPEND, SPEND, SPEND. What a great time/opportunity to drop temptation at their feet!

Hyla Levy - How the Grinch Stole 2009

As we all know, credit card companies – or, more correctly, their corresponding banks - like people who carry high balances so they can collect more in interest. And they sure have a lot of money to make up for due to the sub-prime disaster. But it seems to me as though they are trying to do it, as usual, at the expense of those less well-off. Greed (and George W. Bush*) got them into this mess, and greed will get them out, is what they must be thinking.

Some might say, well, you are an adult and you should be able to take responsibility and not spend the money. To which I reply, if that were realistic reasoning, then why would so many people already be in debtor hell? Easier said than done in other words. (Actually that was a real conversation. I could not have envisioned someone coming up with the ‘you are an adult…’ comment on my own.)

For once in my life I did something smart and told my bank to get rid of the increase and leave me with my $4.00 of available credit.

8.

9. 10.

Tom - Edible Musicians

9. 10.

art on tailcast

(L-R) John LemonThe Artist Formerly Known As Peach (Edro)Elvis Pearsley (Crispy)Johnny Cashew (JC Wooley)

Courtney Loaf (Jenny)Sid Vichyssoise and Johnny Rotten Tomato (Hyla)Dolly Parsnip (Crazydiamond)

Steve - Shotgun Shells

11. 12.

11. 12.

13. 14.

Barry Vincent (Crazydiamond) - Stranded

13. 14.

Barry Vincent (Crazydiamond) - Stranded

Edward Garvin - Neuron Wallpaper

15.

16.

17. 18.

Sushiko - Telamone

17. 18.

Mis-BUG - First Step

19.

Stella - Abstract Stella - Abstract Painting, Acrylics and Ink

Stella - Abstract Stella - Abstract Painting, Acrylics and Ink

Pseudo - Silo Willhardi - Tikkaat

21.

22.

Pseudo - Silo Willhardi - Tikkaat

23.

writing on tailcast

Dear my future-self, or doppelganger, or whatever... I have been thinking for days about how to properly respond to your letter. So far, I still have nothing; just the reverberating sensation I had at the initial read-though; some wide-eyed college kid with her lips pressed tight against a clenched fi st, legs crossed on a chic piece of modern furniture in the student union, swallowing each eloquent phrase, forgetting that she consumed it, then doing it all over again and fi nding the taste more stinging and succulent.

Nothing seemed real after that. Or maybe everything seemed real, more animated and comical, just absolutely absurd; a transcendent, fascinating isolation. The light is dim, but at least it exists. I’m a little insecure to write, or try to make sense out of words to you. Like singing a sugary pop song to Beethoven. But I’ll get through it.

Do you have more I can read from you? I don’t feel naked under fl orescent lights for some reason. I feel warm, I feel my soul balancing itself under my skin. the ghost asleep in my bed. Who are You? Where are You from?My pseudonym has indirectly caused our soul orbits to overlap.Could you imagine if all human interaction was like this? Haha. The small talk formula. “So what things do you do, I mean, own?”

Here’s something I’ve never admitted to anyone. Yes, everything, practically everything is

incomplete. If it isn’t, then it was a school assignment. Writing is a release, how I can interpret what I see and feel with the tool I’ve been given, the English Language, and sometimes a tool I’ve earned, the Spanish language. Release. release. Music, writing music is what it wants to do; whatever my fi ngers want to say when they wrap around the neck of a guitar, or slide along the keys of my great-grandmothers piano; whatever melody that embeds itself in my tongue and lips. Valuable to a group of boys in a soul/rock band. Art, visual art, where ever my pen wants to take me. release. I had an art show once at a local cafe, and the only piece that sold was an 8 x 10 doodle from my algebra notebook in high school. I fi nd most of my “artistic successes” are accidents, events for which I cannot be credited. My most simple chord structures that write themselves, the haphazard strokes of a black oil pastel, the Ouiji Board of expression. I frustrate people when I can’t take compliments. And I guess that is why “velvetlungs” exists. I accept your challenge.

All those vanities. All those boys. The looming guilt. The looming desire. The looming God, hope , compassion and all those demons. The need to kick over all the sand-castles I build around a hope of something sustaining. A monarch butterfl y dying on a beach. All the clothes and colors, All the times I rouge my lips and darken my eyes. The sudden lust of violence. (Is this coming from me?) (why would I slam someone’s head into pavement?) ( why would I crash my own car?) Who is telling me to do this? It is the perfect literary character. “I have been chosen. I will one day, destroy myself when I will to do so.” And in that conviction, invincibility, he or she will die a mediocre death. “Thank you, Grandma, for the French toast.” “It’s sunny outside. Let’s go to the park!”“Have a nice evening!” (grins at a baby in a polka-dot dress)“I know now that no thing is lost. Defi ne yourself long enough by the absence of some missing piece and you become inseparable from the absence itself. And you realize that the absence does not exist because something has been taken away from you, but because something has been gained,

Velvetlungs - Dear Doppelganger

Velvetlungs - Lamp3

some dark insight. And you stop trying to dress the wound and just bleed freely. Because you know that the absence is a presence, an unyielding force that will be with you always. It is your secret power, your strange brand of courage, your fucking heart. “ Yes, Yes, and Yes. Our bright black we share.

How do we face the disease and the small talk world?

Paying bills, going to the post office, picking up milk and eggs.

Nothing, fellow believer, nothing has ever been more intimate than this. I never planned on it, nor do I ever plan on experiencing it again.

B

25.

Penitent - Dream-Convergence

I became consious of a small room around me, I was sitting behind a table, facing myself on the opposite side. Nothing happened for a great deal of time, until we both said hello simultaneously.

[All conversation was said at exactly the same time, myself and my double.]

“Um, hello.Hi.Why are we talking at the same time?Because we’re the same person. Wait, if I was going to answer that question, why did I ask it?And that one.Oh dear. This can’t be good. We should probably stop copying each other, there isn’t even a point to this. There must be a point to it, otherwise it would not be happening.Hmm.

But what kind of revelation should there be? I don’t know. Maybe its time to realise that you think you’re the real one and I’m the copy.When, in fact, you might as well be the copy, or, we are both real, and this is all for some sort of strange convergence. That could be very true, but how can I know which one is which?Maybe the point is you can’t. Maybe the point is that we will both wake up, if real or illusory, to the thought that somewhere you are doing exactly the same thing, at exactly the same time. Thats pretty strange. True. Or it could be that you’ll wake up and worry you’re not real. That sounds more like something I’d do. “

[Awoke]

~P~

Taro Grieves - Seeing Double

Klarabella - Strumpbyxor

Jessica Dennison - Hold To Yourself

(absolutely random poem, inspired by thesong “Love Hurts” by Incubus. If you listen to the song while reading it may make some kind of sense. I felt compelled to add this side note because it seems like every time someone reads my poems they’re like,WTF? lol!)

The lightest beamssprinkle gleamsin e’ry directionoff Irish skin

Like swordsthey flyall aboutas our body’s ascend

Wrapped in lightand entangled in this dream

Intertwinethese screaming soulsthat will n’er worryno n’er a gain

Encasedso safebut do not worrythough the worst is yet to come

Hold to yourselfHold fastand strongfor it is the only thing you truly have

My darling,I am not foreverthis is no lieOnly for now, trust me

Look into my Irish eyes

27.

Klarabella - Strumpbyxor

Crispy - Gathered On The Edge

Richard Lowery - Home

Suspended in a sun-spun cradle of running gold;Painted in greens, yellows, browns; veined and framed with blue.Furnished by a vulcan heat, a giant’s grip, an arctic cold;Populated through time and nature’s magical alchemy,We are in contemplated, regulated, massive infinity.Keen we are to shoulder responsibility’s fragile burden;Defending our right to bear it, seldom seeking to share it;

Claiming mastery over chance and definition for our order,Pretending knowledge of chaos, insight to past and future,We wait, suspended, spinning, for time to come.What we wait for, known only each to lonely each –To fall in love, to make a name, to eat a humble peach – We wait for here, in the cruel and precious now;Where tenderness hides savagery and warriors hold the peace.

29.

Crispy - Gathered On The Edge

31.

Hejtejp - Birds

Arisen from a bed of pine, the sun blinds me,Shielding my eyes I greet the dawn,Another day I give thanks to god,I know him not, yet I feel humble in this place,To dress I must, then face the day,Something to eat, then rest and stir at open fire,Watching clouds go scudding by the caves mouth,Ahh inner peace, who would pay a kings ransom for some today.

David Barron - Inner Peace

Hejtejp - Birds

33.

Klarabella - Sommartider

Dimz - Rivers

As I fl oat along this river, your hands are caressing my headAs I experience the shiver, I know that this river is what you said

After I sway with the motion, your my beautiful oceanYou send me away...But when I return, I realised and I learnedThat he heard me when I prayed...

I remember watching the movie with that sparkle in your eyeAnd as I look at your face, I could sense that the angels were passing me byCos when I observe my life I thank God for this dayThough you are not my wife, you still are my life, so believe me when I say

I love you...

Your like the sand lines marking my life into the shoreEven when I get to the cliffs, my love doesn’t shift, as I take one step moreAnd as I fall through space with the thought of you deep insideI am no longer falling, the heavens recalling me to you just in time

Then I remember your beginning, right up from the startBecause when I saw the passion, it was pure satisfaction, we all want to make artWe may be on top of the eye , and looking right over the fading nightBut as we ascend to the black, my light soon comes back, as your standing to my rightI remember from that time the action of the nightWhen we embraced it was satisfaction and delightThen I pull back slightly and gaze into the mistThen my legs start to tingle as the green intermingles as I navigate the abyss

I love you...

Klarabella - Sommartider

35.

Victoria Karllson - Frozen

The forest whispered menacingly, stretching its countless limbs out with a long, harmonious groan. Threats came from underneath the trees’ faint breaths as the wind plucked their leaves from their branches.Bitterly the icy air sliced at the trunks and sunk its cuspidate teeth into the bark. The trees wailed. Winter was coming to shred the forest of her gorgeous gown; red, oranges, and browns soon to be stripped and tossed complacently into the air. Then the snow would come --- a much chillier and heavier frock than the dress the woods wore now. With screams and howls, the trees showed their detest for the Frost’s accomplices, snarling at the cool breeze and the pelting storms. Though the change was utterly inevitable, that most certainly did not inhibit the timber from displaying their resentment so vividly. Abruptly the whole forest hushed. The Frost was coming.

Noey - The Frost

Leg - Concrete1

Jakkyl - Would It Kill You To Smile?

“Would it kill you to smile?!” That was the last thing I heard before being blinded by the brightest fl ash of light this side of…whatever that phrase is. But this story starts two days earlier on a Thursday. I was a pipsqueak second grader with a fresh mouth. The bigger boys picked on me. I smarted off at them. They picked on me some more. That’s just the way things were. And lucky me, I couldn’t smart off like a normal second grader. I let them have it with both barrels, usually making them angrier. This only led to threats of violence come recess. My teacher only thought I was the most helpful student in class. She had no idea the only reason I stayed in from recess to help her was to avoid getting my butt kicked all over the playground. The villain in this story is a tall skinny kid called Ricky Glasco. I remember the name was Glasco because I secretly called him something that I thought rhymed with Glasco. Unfortunately, in this story Ricky learns that secret. The morning had started the way most mornings did. A few boys called me a few names. A few girls giggled. Good old Dean stuck by me, not too close though. We were closer friends in our neighborhood than at school. Craig would have

stuck to me like glue. But he was in another class, and that’s why he won’t be appearing in this story. There was something about this particular day that set it apart from all the others. Maybe it was the rainy weather. Maybe I hadn’t slept well. Whatever the reason, Ricky got to me that day. He spent the morning tripping me and saying things to get the other kids to laugh at me. And I just wasn’t up to telling him off. Maybe it was because Becky laughed at me. She was the one girl who I never wanted to laugh at me. I loved her. This next part is where the story really takes off. The stupid teacher sat me next to Ricky at lunch. I tried to eat quietly and not draw attention to myself. I talked to Opal a little bit. She was the kind of girl who was nice to everyone. She never giggled when Ricky and his lackeys picked on me. But at some point one of the other girls pointed at my head and started laughing. Apparently Ricky had fl icked jelly in my hair. There was a big sticky glob on the top of my head, very near the front. Other kids started laughing as well. I was so embarrassed; I did the only thing I knew to do. I started pulling out the sticky hairs. By the time we went back to class I had a bald spot the size of a silver dollar in the front of my head. The teacher wrote a note to my mother.

37.

The next day Mother tried her best to comb my hair so the bald spot wouldn’t show. No luck. I went to school with the evidence that proved I was as much of a whatever second graders called each other back then as those kids thought I was. Obviously, my teacher had questioned me about pulling my hair out. I told her one of the kids had thrown jelly in my hair. I’m sure I told her it was Ricky. But believe it or not, that evil woman still sat me next to Ricky at lunch. And we had meatloaf for lunch. I remember it was meatloaf because when Ricky went to get a second milk I unscrewed the salt shaker and dumped most of it on Ricky’s meatloaf. Before I’m labeled as a brat I should explain something. I did not originally intend to dump all that salt on Ricky’s meatloaf. I’m sure I had seen that old trick of loosening the salt shaker somewhere on TV. I intended for Ricky to dump salt on his own meatloaf. But then I got carried away with myself. Of course, as soon as Ricky tasted his food he knew he had been vandalized. As he got up to go tell on me, I called him by the secret name that I thought rhymed with Glasco. Could the teacher have gotten to my table any quicker? I don’t think

so. I was marched off to the principal’s offi ce like I had pissed on Ricky’s head. I don’t remember my punishment. But my teacher wrote a note to my mother. Later that evening my father took me out to the garage for one of his home-style haircuts. Mother decided I couldn’t pose for pictures the next morning at Olan Mills with a shiny gap in my head. She thought Dad had better try to even it up a little. Yes, that’s right. Saturday was the day my family was posing for pictures. So Dad went to work on my head, and I ended up being the only boy in second grade with a buzz haircut, topped off with a bald spot the size of a silver dollar…right there in front. The next morning I stood looking at myself in the mirror. Buzz cut? Check. Big ass bald spot? Check. Coke bottle glasses with black plastic frames sitting crooked on my pug nose? Check. One adult front tooth, one missing front tooth? Double check. Bowtie to frame the whole effect? What do you think? And now you know why the last thing I heard before being blinded by the brightest fl ash of light this side of...whatever that phrase is...was “Would it kill you to smile?!” And it nearly did.

Hejtejp - Hej Solen

If there is to be any peace it will come through being, not having.

Henry Miller“

“

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