Transcription exercise: I reckon it’s correct

artist: Reckonwrong, track title: “14 days,” label: Whities 018

This is a first for me: transcribing for leisure and preordering a record, which has yet to arrive. The digital version arrived today, and it’s listening to the “14 days” track from Reckonwrong that I felt to transcribe the song, which I heard for the first time a few weeks back on the Charlie Bones morning show. Thanks to the artist for making the music, and I hope my translation is mostly accurate.


Tomma Abts exhibit at Art Institute of Chicago

What I wouldn’t give for 14 more days, 14 days of happiness.
What I wouldn’t give for 14 more days and 14 more nights of passion.

Seven days of friendship and seven days of love,
in the right hands it doesn’t take much.

I’ll see the light in 14 different shades and that will be enough.

What I wouldn’t give for 14 more days, 14 days of happiness and joy.
What I wouldn’t give for 14 more days and 14 more nights of passion.

Do you have the stamina for 14 more days and who knows, of love.

Your words come back to ya so be careful what you say,
sometimes the truth comes after the facts.

What I wouldn’t give for 14 more days, 14 days of happiness
What I wouldn’t do for 14 days with you, 14 more nights of passion.
{reverberation and repetition}
Aaaaaaaaahhhh passion.

{This text does not exist without the music and the voice.}



World War I Memorial, Kansas City, Missouri

Today, artists have a practice, they practice, that’s what they do.

They practice painting, drawing, sewing, building, and cutting.

They call it a practice. My practice includes X,Y,Z.

The reason we practice is to become more proficient in a skill.

I like to practice the languages I speak with people who speak that language as their native tongue, it helps me learn. The other day I learned a new word in Serbian, bahat. It means careless or offhand. About a month ago, I learned a new word in French, huppé, which means posh. In English, I haven’t learnt a new word, although I have learned about punctuation in image captions, and I appreciate that.

But it is also good not to practice, to access instinct instead.

To allow yourself to talk aloud to no one and everyone while waiting for the train on a summer evening; to close your eyes and bop along to the beat on a crowded afternoon train; to hop fences; not make beds; not tidy up the house; to not.

For a while whenever I’d ask some cat how they were, they would respond with “I’m so busy,” and proceed to list the numerous musical and artistic projects they were involved in. Even if I was currently “busy” my  favorite response to these folks was always, “I’m not doing much,” which inevitably ended the conversation. And I still revel in and appreciate doing nothing.

Cowboys in the kitchen



Dreams of today are not those of yesterday.

What I said yesterday I do not agree with today.

I am not the same as yesterday, nor will I be the same today.

This is a lovely part of the human condition; self-acceptance accompanied by equal amounts of denial.

Why not?

Homage to This Place

IMG_7553That I play on repeat
because they talked it good
and Amy regenerated them in my memory
with her simple signals.

Home is where Buzzy makes trouble
and Sissy keeps tabs
on my heart,
by sitting on it.

We’re just animals
with a home,
who take chances
at not being afraid.

I Saw the Sign

milkmanIvo Andrić has a book I haven’t read yet called Signs by the Roadside. A good friend praises it and I trust her taste as she travels a lot and only takes a few belongings with her, this book being one of those.

Walking to work on Monday, I saw this sign on what was presumably a milk truck. It was odd to see it on a parked truck on Wabash Ave. I found it nostalgic and wondered what it was like to get milk from a milkman, especially one who really wanted to be your milkman. I of course chuckled as there are so many jokes about milkmen and all that they bring and a particular song it reminded me of.

Three days later, it’s Thursday and I’m catching up on my social media.  A private message from an acquaintance is oddly enough a video related to milk. I don’t drink milk, unless it’s in the form of yogurt, cheese, or kefir, so it must be a sign along Andrić’s roadside.

Yes, this video sent by the acquaintance was also a sign, a sign calling me to God’s dairy farm, reminding me that people who need milk sometimes pray for it, and their milkman comes with milk and all the money in his wallet to give, after he turned on seventh street of course. All these signs that were assigned meaning, from the number seven to milk and money.

Well honey, my milkman sign is here in Aphex Twin’s song. Give it a chance, won’t ya? It’s also a sign.

Konče & Džindže


Don’t have ’em,
don’t want ’em.

Having is gone, 
being is.

Cinnamon needs a lil more time to think of a rhyme.
Her new name takes getting used to as our bodies take growing into.

Focus focus, hocus pocus,
y’all forgive me always, ain’t no jokus.

Exercise, extra size,
breathe through the eyes.

Big paws and small flaws,
gots, needs, and haves.

Doo dooo doooo,
Toš and Šos were boš.

Then they got down,
now they’re moši moshi.



Hello? 313 here.

Hello? 312 on the wire.

What’s shakin’ 312?

Daddy-o this joint is off the hook!

Indeed it is.



In other words:

The joint I’m talking about was the Underground Resistance performance at the Metro this past Sunday. Part of an all building event that featured Queen! DJ’s Derrick Carter, Michael Serafini, and Garret David downstairs at Smartbar with Detroiters, Timeline, John Collins, Mark Flash, and Wajeed upstairs at the Metro.


I almost lazed out on the whole thing if it wasn’t for my Detroiter sister who reminded me with her post, “I am jealous of Chicago.” Cold shower, refreshment and off I went.


As a Chicagoan I have gone and can go to hear Queen! any given Sunday, so I was most excited to hear Underground Resistance, whose live band Timeline performed. Timeline is Mike Banks, Jon Dixon, Mark Flash, and De’Sean Jones. As one dancer said of the performance, “this was something special.”


Something special indeed, not every day that you go to hear music from a techno collective, which includes piano, saxophone, and flute, in addition to legend Mike Banks.

About their performance: Piano may be the boss, but flute knows the route and saxophone brings it home.


The music alone did not make the special, but the atmosphere; the friendly dancers from Milwaukee, the colorful prancers and swancers from around the way. I was reminded of family, of cities as family; Detroit and Chicago as sisters. And of other family values: honor, respect, dignity, and integrity.

Respect to John Collins, not only for his brilliant set that brought us back, but for his thoughtful tour to our group when we visited Detroit’s secret techno museum last summer, and for the few words we shared at Sunday’s event.

And that’s all folks!