#Tortured Musician Buck Owns My Soul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elena2 · 3 years

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The Healers

There are times when your DNA ancestry calls you.

Today has been one of these days where I’ve been really in tune with my Celtic roots and indulge myself with Celtic music.

There’s something about it: I sit by the Sun, close my eyes, listen to the music and my feelings come alive.

Along has come this particular song (Busindre Reel - Hevia) and it has started creating a magical association of ideas in my brain.

This musician is from the lands of the man I’ll always refer as to my healer; the lighthouse that has always been shining bright up until a few years back I made it safely to the shore.

This got me to think that it takes a very special individual to be a healer. I don’t say become, because from my perspective it’s something that either you’re born with it or you're not.

There are people, from all walks of life, walking around Earth, that by just tuning into their own nature, they have the ability to help improve other people’s lives.

Being a healer doesn’t mean that you are exempt from all harm. Quite the opposite: It tends to be easier to address what could be improved onto others than yourself. All-the-time.

´When I first saw him, I thought, what kind of Voodoo stuff is this?¨- Jokingly said the owner of a horse ranch in the documentary Buck, based on the life of Buck Brannaman.

¨That’s why so many people who are good at this, they’re tortured souls.¨- Said another woman in the same documentary.

´When something/someone is scared for his life, I know exactly how that feels.¨- Said Buck himself.

What really makes a healer, is being an authentic empath who by chance, has had some experience where they’ve had no other choice but to grow beyond imagination.

These daily heroes can tune into the core of what’s placed in front of them and channel its energy.

If my healer wouldn’t have had some hardships in his past, he wouldn’t be able to be helping people nowadays to mend and understand themselves deeply.

Having experienced a thing or two myself, helped me awaken a part of me that had always been in deep slumber. The helper/healer in me.

And while what I do, at first sight, is something everyone could do, the truth of the matter it’s that nobody is made for that.

You can study all the books you want: You might even become good at your discipline. But if you want to excel, it has to come from within. It needs to be a passion, something that moves you. Never an interest with no passion/compassion behind it led to big achievements and vice-versa (hello Steve Jobs).

So while I won’t change the world, I change scared-for-their-life dogs' lives day in and day out.

There’s this magic connection when you look right in the eyes of another living thing and without speaking, they tell you a story.

The healer is the ultimate cheerleader.

A good healer never gives up. A harder challenge just means being more persistence, more hours, and having the confidence that ultimately, you’ll get into the other’s chi and help it find its right way to flow accordingly.

And just when the results show up, and one sees that by helping, has helped to improve another’s life is where the magic unfolds.

Very few things in this life are as rewarding as knowing that you’ve helped someone feel better.

And all of us should walk alongside in hopes to improve the world and make it a better place where healers would no longer be needed.

That would mean that we, as the entire human species, would’ve become better, less toxic, and more in tune with life.

Wouldn’t that be beautiful?

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sheilacwall · 5 years

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Velvet Negroni is Trying to Make Music That’s Built to Last in an Ethereal Digital Age

When we chat his most recent record, NEON BROWN (via 4AD), has been out for less than a full week. But it’s already beginning to add layers to an increasingly mythological narrative. It’s not just Nutzman’s background being gradually woven together with each new review and published blurb, but it’s also the behind-the-scenes contributions that penetrate larger swaths of popular culture. The track “Waves” from Velvet Negroni’s previous release T.C.O.D. was played by Justin Vernon at Kanye West’s famously rural writing camp in Wyoming, resulting in a contribution to opening track “Feel the Love” on Kanye and Kid Cudi’s collaboration album, Kids See Ghosts. More recently, he’s lent vocals on both “iMi” and “Sh’Diah” from Bon Iver’s new album, i,i.

READ: First Look Friday: Meet Donavon — the Soul of the Algorithm & Disciple of D’Angelo

These high-profile contributions aren’t just Wiki-friendly Easter eggs and fine print liner notes; they’re a clear indicator that both Nutzman’s voice and creative direction possess a unique resonance that is parting the seas of an oft-impenetrable musical kingdom.

NEON BROWN offers an accessible entry-point to hear Jeremy Nutzman’s evolving artistry at work. Album highlight “Wine Green” is an instantly recitable, dancehall-esque anthem awash in peppy adlibs and ascending jabs of bass. “Poster Child” showcases a catchy, iridescent love-song-hook that glows vividly while the downtempo “Feel Let” spins out soft, palatable utterances that feel as if they’re being belted from a woozy, late-night cab ride home.

We talked with Velvet Negroni to explore the album, his creative inspiration, and a rapidly changing music landscape.

Title: Girboix Carmelo Artist: Velvet Negroni

Can you walk me through your contributions on Bon Iver’s album and Kids See Ghosts?

Justin Vernon played [Kanye West and Kid Cudi] “Waves” and it was the first thing that perked their ears that day so they got into it a little bit. There’s a part of the song that goes, “I can feel it in my bones!” I think it was basically just that little snippet that they just took that energy and vibe into “Feel the Love.”

So the inspiration was more cadence than lyrics or production?

Yeah, there wasn’t a sample. While Justin was in Wyoming, I was at his crib working, I was there rehearsing to perform a couple of dates with him. He had helped to work on the record a little bit previously.

How did you two originally link?

I play in a band with a couple of cats that he grew up with essentially and so that’s how that intro went long ago. It was kind of fun. We were just around sometimes, and we got to know each other a little bit. And then my friend Ryan Olsen had played what I had so far of the record for him, he was really excited by it and the next time he saw me he kind of just opened up his place as a base, like “If you need somewhere to finish this or work on it you should come out.”

Source: Artist

Can you tell me about the recording process and what went into your new album, NEON BROWN?

A lot of different things but mostly just good vibes, a good schedule and good hours. We would at least kind of sketch out one or two tracks, at least two things every day. Then after a little bit of that, circle back to one that we had worked on previously. The ones with real potential kind of just flowed out of the fucking mess and felt kind of obvious-ish, I guess. It’s like sifting for gold, eventually you keep whittling it down into a body of work that’s ready.

How do you feel now that it’s out?

It’s just exciting that people are listening to it. The album has been done for a pretty sizable chunk of time, that happened long ago it feels like, but now it’s just, knowing that people can listen to it…that’s exciting.

There’s a wide range of sounds on the album, some heady and stirring but also lighter notes. It’s interesting to see you do both.

It’s a natural thing in the songwriting process. Especially when I’m working with Elliott (Tickle Torture) and Simon (Psymun), there’s no off-limits. There’s that many more influences, like each person has a toolbox. Then there’s that added onto the writing process. So, we’re taking from a pretty wide range of shit just in everybody’s own mind and then putting them together. I don’t think any of us think about the style of the song as it relates to the album until after the fact.

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What new artists inspire you right now?

I’ve been excited about Yves Tumor on Warp and listening to this cat Mk.Gee. I can’t think of anything else off the top of my head that I’ve really been jacked on. I’m kind of just stepping back into remembering that I can listen to other people’s music you know, like on my own, really just listen to music. Usually, I’m just in such a creative mode in my headspace, or I’m not listening to anything, or I’m working on my shit.

When you were first discovering music at an early age, finding discarded records on a neighbor’s lawn, which albums were especially formative for you?

In that pack of CDs that I found, I remember some 311, Soundgarden, some Metallica, Lords of Acid. I think there was a Crime Mob CD, some Tupac and even Marilyn Manson. Those were my youngest memories of having music that wasn’t church music.

That was huge for me. But I was so young that when I was playing music, I wasn’t coming at it from a composing aspect at all. It was beyond me how you could even make something like that. I didn’t have any of the experiences that I have now to desensitize me to the wonderment of music in general.

Photo Credit: Rachel Kauffman for Okayplayer

What was the original intention of keeping you from being exposed to that music?

I mean those were just my parents’ rules. They were religious and didn’t think that anything else was worthwhile except for Christian music. I was practicing playing piano for at least one hour every single day and my mom would sit on the bench next to me, there was no getting out of it really.

We’re now living in a totally digital age. How do you feel the streaming era is changing music?

Oversaturation is a real thing, but there’s also so much more of a platform. I think that, eventually, for the most part, good stuff will be discovered. Like there’s too many people listening, seeing and talking amongst themselves deep in the Internet at all times that I think that the good stuff, the truth will prevail. It’s just a different style with music in general, because it used to be the furthest thing away to just go to a bedroom somewhere and record. Most people couldn’t afford to even rent studio time, let alone rent a studio and then then take their time writing songs in the studio as they go. People used to write a song, arrange a song, figure it out, get really good at it and then go record it. Now, it’s pretty much the norm to write a song as you’re playing and then you have the ability to manipulate audio. It changed the format.

When I first got into recording on my own, an amazing feature of it was that it moved so fast and I found myself making a couple of happy accidents. It was really exciting. Like, wow, what happened there? It went from writing songs and then finding happy accidents to just showing up and relying on happy accidents, rather than really spending time with the chord progression of the arrangement ahead of time.

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I think from the critic or audience’s perspective, you also have less time to win over an audience with a shrinking attention span. Not everyone is even really around for a full album to listen from front to back.

That’s huge, yes. You can grab your albums out of thin air. There was no way to pirate an album unless you stole it from a store. So, it was physical, and I think it meant more just inherently then. It meant more on a tangible level. Like, I paid eleven bucks for this album, I’m not sure if I like it yet, but I’m gonna listen to it and keep listening.

The attention span is so fast that I think there’s more people trying to just jump on a wave or catch a wave and make stuff that’s relevant right then, instead of thinking like a whole album. Instead of maybe making a piece of work that is supposed to stand the test of time.

What’s it like to be a musician in 2019? Especially considering it’s increasingly rare to make a living off your art.

You’re correct with that being a rarity, it also depends on what one person’s definition of living and what you’re satisfied with. I’ve been making music for a real long time, but only recently have I even taken into consideration, oh yeah, I guess there’s a chance I could make some money from this. Really. I can only try and imagine what it was like doing what I’m trying to do right now when the Internet wasn’t the Supreme Being.

Photo Credit: Tim Saccenti

Adam Isaac Itkoff is a freelance writer living in New York City. You can follow him (and us!) on Twitter.

The post Velvet Negroni is Trying to Make Music That’s Built to Last in an Ethereal Digital Age appeared first on Hip Hop World Music.

from Hip Hop World Music https://hiphopworldmusic.com/velvet-negroni-is-trying-to-make-music-thats-built-to-last-in-an-ethereal-digital-age/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=velvet-negroni-is-trying-to-make-music-thats-built-to-last-in-an-ethereal-digital-age from Hip Hop World Music https://hiphopworldmusic.tumblr.com/post/187545891383

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topbeautifulwomens · 5 years

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#I’m #Leaving #You #adultmodel #dancing #fitness #illustration #instapic #makeupaddict #musician #ootd #photomodel #sexy

I AM IN THE MAGMA CORE Inside of the laundry place under the developing with the refreshing odor of Tide detergent on my fingers in the aromatic spring air blowing in the undisplay screened window obtaining cosmetic in each and everyworking day functions which includes carrying out the laundry inside of a confined scenario never publishing but currently being and being once more though torture finals for yrs and even a lot more many years I’m not existing in opposition to you here is easily named I’M LEAVING YOU

I climb back again down the cross back up the partitions the place I’m driven towards my confront and breasts my acheful nose is throbbing I climb out of the yellow satin Devil coffin where I am choking on dry smoky air you’ve been smoking cigarettes Marlboros in my coffin I got you out I free of billed you And you shut the lid on me And I could not escape the suffocation I own the base as I incorporate been there all alengthy it isn’t really ever submission but an ascension on the cross I climmattress back down to Hades my residence to obtain absent from you

I understood Lucifer in element Throughout your mercisignificantly less challenging eyes I was in your upper body nevertheless in tranquil innocence I dwelled as Christ when it grew to become

also much I escaped as a female Christ at occasions a boy Christ insisting the one-time crucifying be an quick launch IT WASN’T SO I AM LEAVING YOU It is entirely ever LEAVING TU LEAVING YOU LEAVING VOUS

It is a horrible drama I painting but the black Prince of Darkness mask I wear my nakedness my little one’s human body my tenderness are my real rage You put me in open up air graves with no coffin Merely dust or low cost plywood once I comprehendd I experienced arrived at a new low in life I had to dig my way up to get out Astay

You ate evening meal although I lay in the world I noticed the heat pleasant light-weights that excluded me from the eating room once more I felt black while I starved outside the house under the chilly soil I saw you sitting down uncaring taking in and smiling the Arab smile I utilised to like earlier maybe you were happy but it was the Holocaust for me it truly is too late for a rescue, pointless to say

It is a rolling wheelchair exit I acknowledge traveling down the Sausalito freeway to Santa Monica where the bitch was in my route as I wheel out the door you were position guiding her locating the exact level the sunshine emerges in situation I could one day see from inside a dim criminal offense alley trash pile that he set me down on sitting with the homeless black men and ending my clean fish bones from a very good fish sandwich with tobasco I could have choked but did not you hoped I might choke but like the happy cat who still left with satisfstep I AM LEAVING YOU

The fresh scent of Tide on my apparel And my burdened pores and skin-sjourneyped hands The dryer sheet a rough tissue for my nose The tears I have shed for the agonies an sudden reward of deliberately wilted bouquets Are a wracking BOUNDING pain in my head an ever-tightening gold and silver steel band probably copper perhaps American pewter the hefty mesh of an armored Crusades fit I am donning on my slim have toers becoming a headache torture professional I had to compose and studies a new corporate aspirin merchandise for the aid of my migraine as well as yours I ended the pain by strolling away

Nonetheless the fresh freshness lifts me up on to the unfound highway Without having credit score for my work last year ahead of this year’s hypnosis paralyzed me A dropped real truth by way of pressured walk excusions in the open air It was a psychological establishment and you pushed the wheelchair as the admitting medical doctor As I depart you once more it’s going to not issue how a lot of times I have attempted even though it seems to be like a life-style to leave you since as I roll out the door I AM STILL LEAVING YOU

They knocked me off the ascension they pushed me off the elevator ramp as I rolled by the motherfuckers sitting in my wheelchair I screeched like a snowy wstrikee owl flying through the roof as both the satan a witch or a saint I am not positive to this day if I was saintly or not as I flew off the cross with rage yet yet another time on the uphill road to my independent victory and my independent action (IA) the WPA is still the work technique of my autonomy

anytime I tried to start you threw me out of the 3-ring circus again it was my only home other than the coffin I was homeless I had to pick early in between a jail or a coffin I selected the coffin under duress people were never my real choices You pushed on me another white straw hat and a matching striped jacket a whipped existence you explained I had gained Boy, they all informed me to at the very least neglect the straw hat because I told them I required the jacket

my own conscience was conversing I WALKED OUT AS THE FLY THEN an insect apparition my attendees said it was the damned coat I was wearing to take the nazi image off my chest once and for all as it is a branding iron

slipping on the ramp they had set out to trip me standing like an apparition by my vacant wheelchair I flew off the cross with a fluent rage it was a good come to experience as I tipped the sands of time in the hourglass for another hour to take an surplus breath I am alive not lifeless and strolling through the abandoned saloon doors into a caboveed wagon reality risk-free from the dry dusty sandstorm obscuring your venom like a rattlesnake shut my throat

Not a pyhrric victory this time close to The arid red saloon doors I photographed As a set up in Santa Fe were in the porno online video I once owned documenting my loss of life The swinging gate was not really a door once again you hit me as I entered the action another time and called it caring even making use of the term Enjoy I was never a slave You only owned the empty air between your violent hands The dirt in your pockets the lint on your PC screen was put there by me the present abused witch

I am the air I am the wind I fly like a missing Sabbath I am the air I am the wind I fly like Satan I fly like Jesus I fly like a Brahmin I fly like Buddha I fly like Mohammed I fly like a Sufi journey algeared up taken I am the air I am the wind the holy witch wind I fly like Hitler like Hitler’s daughter

I am a wind tunnel with leaves flying upward I ascend back down and up again through the righteous material of my own almost-destroyed coat by you it’s winter season and I need it it was a witch wind that blew my hat to me even so, to get away from you I will be Jesus again what a last choice it is to regain up on the crucifix again it seems to be a way of life to leave you I can’t get one thing accomplished because I AM ALWAYS LEAVING YOU

I am a minutiae, I am a militia, a cognizant road Not a spiritualist not a quietly spoken or even a very loud nun I am a black patch on a sailor’s eye hiding intent I steal the thefts you stole from me back for me to sustain myself I steal from you as you stole my cash I steal every thing I own from you with delight not fret but backup

Cigarette burns on my arms therapeutic through my large persistence level using a pain evaluate you took just lately It was not Jesus but ME it was ALWAYS ME residing through the burns standing with a immediately back a relaxed voice and a ready smile I was a quite girl with burns It wasn’t Jesus but ME He walked off the cross with me that day I retained his hand IT WAS ALWAYS ME who will ALWAYS LEAVE YOU I requires this to the Justice Courtroom of the Universe for what you have done to me these days

You negated my existence I could not walk out of the door ever with no you beside me all together through my deranged childhood I have had to resolve humanity’s complications through your problems Each and every time I had a friend, one friend for even one instant you criticized me for having a foundation of assist I am leaving you, the Nazi You appeared at me as if I were benefit A billion $$ bucks $$ – and I was I knew you’d get rid of me to keep me Even though I was tied up I came for free plus some To get out of there

The veils you have wrapped around my face are promontory mound scarves often revealing the concealed existence of digital cameras but I always knew the photographer for your porno he said that you are truthfully keeping my by now desecrated camera every time I thought of you I threw the veils down wrapped them wadded up the cheap polyester fabric into an unattractive rolled ball I spat on the veiled ball hurling the light into the encompassed replicate a disappearing symbol of an unmarked grave you pushed me up against that wailing wall I AM LEAVING YOU

I’m back in the coffin peering out from the brown dirt on my skin again listening for creaking seems around the lid My stolen home is my fulcrum point when was my body a temple like in the Bible just once? I’m slicing him off because I am not a Barbie Doll beauty without a brain He can look at what he previously stole not at me I am standing up in a rigorous box a black box a white boxed Rubik’s dice I was forced to solve in relocating cabs My neck hurts and I know I am in the cheap plywood coffin you purchased me One particular for a longer time I live in the everlasting darkness of the deep nicht arab evening I search for the waning light rising up like an ant on a minimalist journey I’m climbing off the ant farm through the silted sifted soil of Europe

I am back in the magma main again climbing up Mt. Vesuvius as a cockroach with a black ash streak mark on my brow from the occult I knew through sacrifice I was the ritual torture target becoming the victorious fowl dancer and a from time to time satanic interpreter Back again again hunting out of the hole My hole – it my complete tender respiratory living whole soul – My Soul (w)hole

I was living in a hatred home because you were living there until finally recently you were holding me hostage Your raging cold constant hatred of me my vagina my back and my front my whole breathing tune a typeer loving child now a vigilant female with a chilled reply and song repertoire I was a girl you never witnessed my have faith in Due to the fact nothing at all ever alterations I AM LEAVING YOU I was more than the small Nazi girl all along

You tried to generate me a pimp and absolutely everyone’s whore on the closed circuit TV with concealed internet and satellite spycams it was a visible virtual rape while I had to be both God and a prostitute to fulfill you the white man even though you never talked to me I had to steal my own thoughts from me while believing I was you, the pimp, not me at all I was negated and wearing your name as my identification always reporting my transgressions to you the white magic formula law enforcement while you manufactured me shell out illegally I cracked the hypnosis Da Vinci code

I thank God I do not know you any more I never did know you because you only forced me with brutality to say I knew you when I don’t publicly you said I am not a citizen and are not able to act then you said I am a slave or a servant-slave what the hell is that? a new group for my position as a woman? as I clean the mirror in our home I realize what you indicatet and toss the rag down even the paper towels I throw them on the ground putting my blue Windex spray area cleaner away permanently even though it is new and I walk away from our unmade bed

I will redefine the ceiling as I stand over you I will redefine the ceiling as the floor while I dance a spinning whirling dervish dance a gorgeous little girl’s wild dance on top of your head You will not know I am alive EVEN THOUGH I stand outside your dungeon with the keys You won’t hear from me in the potential because I am leaving you. SAYONARA I AM LEAVING YOU GOODBYE YOU MOTHERFUCKER I AM LEAVING YOU

I am back in the front back in the center of your crappy car sitting in the backseat not thankful at all why should I be grateful? Grateful for what? it was all improper and I knew it was all wrong Waiting around for the dryer cycle to total I meticulously independent your clothes from mine because they’ve leprosy and even worse specifically the undies

Placing them neatly in your dresser drawer the top drawer, sure I seize my unexpected emergency funds and I walk out the door Towards manna towards heaven toward mecca Toward Bethlehem Toward the closest hamburger place To plan my escape from MY home which these times is always your jail walking with abandon and confidence down the independence road I don’t conclude to brush my hair or trouble with lip gloss smiling in the mirror

it’s a woman thing it’s a coronary heart thing it’s in my vagina that you will never know it’s my holy space and you are going to never know it

I am the Pope now as I leave you you threw the rocks too hard at me the girl standing on the wall you were a man, not a boy and the rocks were your brutal fists your distressing raging slaps you existed for meanness you were a massive terrifying rigid form following to me ready to hit me again as I lay in your cold cold bed I left you early – for the duration of the during the encountering breaths I take I left you already! but you didn’t know or care because it was never my bed only yours

I had no room to breathe and I slipped out from between the sheets early one early morning as you slept a deep satisfied rest I looked carefully at your no-guilt icy face I never went back to caring as which is how you caught me caring for you lying in your bed trapped between your legs you are a mean man with truly mean hands AND for this cause I AM LEAVING YOU I AM LEAVING YOU I AM LEAVING YOU I AM LEAVING YOU GOODBYE YOU LOSER GOODBYE. ADIOS. LATER. SEE YOU NEVER. ANOTHER TIME FOR LOVE

You poured a loam fertilizer product on what’s now international soil in our backyard I bought it in Hechingers for a family members backyard garden You didn’t wish Placing me in the cheap coffin again you said I am going to be back I didn’t be reluctant even so and climbed out of the coffin buried under a foreign place I never knew as our home before without my identity intact as you stole it everyday through violence expressed toward me my skin and my occasionaly delicate woman’s soul even kid’s soul at times

You were the doctor in a white mask at the opening to the grave exhuming tilling the soil almost packed down over me supplying to free me from bondage through a conscript program as some variety of welfare draftee It is euthanasia you said Provider or nothing less than suicide introducing “You’ve a fixation on death” and you put me in the medical center again “one more time we are going to do this” you remarked casually as a frigid stranger once more negating my will nonetheless hanging terror in my heart and disgust that always prevails when I need you to come through for me in a crisis you simply never do I AM LEAVING YOU

You made me feel like a servant while you were in my body a maid in hypnosis that I am not with a leash around my neck hopelessly pursuing you into ignominy and eventual death against my will and not able to speak with silent screams I left with my spirit into acquainted terrain not as an insect again

It is the abstruse point of watch Nothing at all you gave me was yours to give I already own everything Incorporating my entire body I own my face and my expressions on my face you couldn’t give me anything let on your own take anything away this is not said by me it is said by Jesus I may sound wonderful but I am not nice relating to this for fucking me over just once I am leaving you

There is certainly no final voiceover No voice overlay It was your voice drowning me in my life Just my voice Just mine It is always my voice I speak with It is mine only It is finally my beautiful voice I hear And it always was Mine. It truly is all mine. My voice is me. I’m being it for the future for my dad for my unborn child perhaps never born because I lost my voice once or more than 2 times and because I want to still feel in God for my peace of head and simply for myself I am leaving you I have already left you yesterday for the ugly bruises on my beautiful body that I can still see and feel I don’t stay tied up for long I had to walk out of my body to leave you Here is goodbye. Adios.

The post I’m Leaving You appeared first on Beautiful Women.

source http://topbeautifulwomen.com/im-leaving-you/

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kourtneyvenables-blog · 6 years

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INDIA Related Contents.

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