Showing posts with label photography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label photography. Show all posts

Friday, July 13, 2012

Falling Water and Ayn Rand's fanatical 'individualism'


Falling Water, the Kaufman family home in the mountains of southwestern Pennsylvania, designed by American architect Frank Lloyd Wright in 1935

Falling Water is listed among Smithsonian's Life List of 28 places "to visit before you die."

Falling Water or the Kaufmann Residence is a house designed by architect Frank Lloyd Wright in 1935 in rural southwestern Pennsylvania, 50 miles (80 km) southeast of Pittsburgh. The home was built partly over a waterfall on Bear Run in the Mill Run section of Stewart Township, Fayette County, Pennsylvania, in the Laurel Highlands of the Allegheny Mountains. Hailed by Time shortly after its completion as Wright's "most beautiful job," it is listed among Smithsonian's Life List of 28 places "to visit before you die." It was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1966. In 1991, members of the American Institute of Architects named the house the "best all-time work of American architecture" and in 2007, it was ranked twenty-ninth on the list of America's Favorite Architecture according to the AIA. - Wikipedia 

Frank Lloyd Wright, 1867-1959

Falling Water and the fanatical 'individualism' of Ayn Rand

An essay by Mike Marcellino

Falling Water is a home designed by perhaps America's greatest architect, Frank Lloyd Wright.

Some critics argue that Wright, from Richland Center, Wisconsin, was the pattern for Howard Roark, the architect and hero of author Ayn Rand's 1949 novel of the individualist - "The Fountainhead."   That same year the film "The Fountainhead" directed by King Vidor, starring Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal, was a critical bomb.




I do recommend a trip to Falling Water in the mountains of southwestern Pennsylvania.
If you like Rand's first literary success, read "Atlas Shrugged" her last book and last word on "objectivism," her philosophy where complete individual rights is the only social system.
The Russian born writer from a bourgeois family in St. Petersburg is the champion of laissez-faire capitalism.

I must admit that I did enjoy reading both The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, but then I was quite young and exploring.  Now I look upon Rand's philosophy something akin to the philosophy practiced by cave men, yet her primary point of allow creativity and individualism to flourish in a society that builds things remains vital.



Ayn Rand, 1905 - 1982

She makes some valid points with respect to creativity and industry but goes off the deep end with her egotistical survival of the fittest mentality in which creators and industry without restriction get all they desire while the rest of mankind - oh, she didn't bother with the rest of the people.

I did read both novels in junior high school, or was it grade school?

It's important not to confuse her selfish philosophy with the protection of individual rights, I have found.  But then, Atlas Shrugged did predict the fall of industry in America, such as private trains, passenger trains that is.

Still, we should be watchful not to allow government to destroy the individual.

The trouble is that largely unrestricted industry is on its way to destroying the earth, the wildlife upon it, the air we breath, the water we drink and the creeks, lakes, rivers, seas and oceans we love.

While, this essay wasn't intended to be political, it is the season in America; we should think long and hard about the coming presidential election.  We should not elect someone who will promote creativity, industry and capitalism, while destroying our planet and the great majority of its people.

Visit the website of Falling Water, it's wonderful!

Falling Water website














(Falling Water photo courtesy of home-designing.com and other photos thanks to Wikipedia)

(author's note:  Google Blogger editing software is the worst known to man, so please excuse the layout as I have done page layout for newspapers; like Word Press, here I come, as I have wasted countless hours trying to make Blogger work)

copyright by Mike Marcellino 2012

Thursday, June 21, 2012

The White Bird, a poem by Mike Marcellino







St. Augustine Beach, Florida 

The White Bird
By Mike Marcellino

Take time with the natural. 
Slow down. 
Don’t miss the beauty,
the small wonders.






Watch and
follow the white bird
on the shore
standing on spindle legs,
like crooked tar twigs.
She paces the wet sand
in a state of consecrated grace,
too lightweight
to leave prints.
 
Fearless, she hops tiny waves,
fluttering her wings,
in no particular hurry.
On occasion 
peck, peck, peck
into sand and shallow surf,
spearing what she captures
inside her
long
razor black beak.
Something unseen–
gulp, gulp, gulp,
digesting sea creatures,
sometimes hidden
in clumps of seaweed.

Recall.  Civilizations,
nations
but
dribble castles: 
Here now,
back in the sea,
tomorrow. 

The white bird
knows not to fall
for what man made.
Not tripping,
she takes notes,
in passing:
an upside down
rubber
flip flop;
plastic of every detail
imagined -
caps, toys and containers;
a single leather soul;
thrown up paper -
a manufactured jelly fish,
of the faintest blue
performing a tide pool ballet
on the beach. 

“And,
“Pray you,” chirps the white bird silently.
“Don’t mix the gods up with your very nature.” 

In her tracks she left behind two shells
worn ocean smooth,
one white, the other black.


The White Bird by Mike Marcellino, copyright 2012


On the beach.  

Photos by Mike Marcellino Copyright 2012

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

The ups and downs of making music

St. Augustine Beach rainbow 
(photo by Mike Marcellino, copyright 2011
Chasing a musical rainbow

I doubt there's anything a person can do that has more ups and downs than making music, that is, creating, recording and performing music.  In our case, it's lyrical poetry music, avant-garde stuff that very few people are doing.  Our listeners often say our music is "unique."  Our music is a fusion of poetry, or lyrical songs and stories, set to music, both played by musicians and composed using computer software.  Depending on the subject or story of the lyrics, the accompanying music may have elements of folk, jazz, punk, hip hop, blues, country or even surf, as in "Bondi beach".  I suppose you could say "Flatbush" is even psychedelic. 

In November, we recorded and released our 8th song, "Taipei subway." 
On New Year's Day we popped up to #42 among the Hot Folk Artists in the world on ReverbNation's charts.  ReverbNation, a leading website for musical artists, has more than 1.5 million artists.  Monday we peaked at #26.  We reached our all-time high of #17 in April. The next two days we were nearly off the chart, only to reach #95 today.  We're #30 on the Top Folk Artists' New York City chart, after peaking at #22 in August after releasing our 7th song, "West of the Pecos".  
I often wonder why I continue to make music, though I do enjoy it.  We haven't tried to sell any tracks yet, other than a self-produced sample CD, "Notebook Writer" for show we did in New York City in the fall of 2010.  We expect to start selling digital tracks and album this month.
But, then, we receive comments like this one from Agata Zak, an actor from New York City -

"Keep up the beautiful work. You are an inspiration to many."

Or, one from Mas Las, a journalist from Algeria - 
"'West of the Pecos' is a masterpiece, the voice, poetry, rhythm and the music." 
And, going back to December 2009 when we first began making lyrical poetry music, from Paul Donohoe, a writer in Australia -
"This (The Walls of Fire) lovely and haunting piece of poetry should be a world wide sensation."

Then I wonder, gee, are they kidding, is this for real?  While people are listening from all over the United States and the world the numbers aren't large - in the thousands, but not yet tens of thousands.

For the record here are our recorded songs so far:

Amelia Earhart, soft silver wings 9-23-2009
been down ta Las Cruces 10-22-2009
Flatbush 11-3-2009
The Walls of Fire 11-11-2009
Bondi beach 11-20-2009
Alphabet cofeehouse 3-13-2010
West of the Pecos 6-7-2011
Taipei subway 11-6-2011
Tomas Texino composed the music on all songs except Flatbush, composed by Randall Leddy who also played  bass.  David Dowling played bass on Amelia.  All songs were recorded in St. Augustine, Florida, except for Flatbush, recorded in Brooklyn, NY.
In any event, thanks to our listeners for joining us on a wild, poetic music ride.
Listen and share our music with your friends (free to stream online).  Like our Facebook Musician/Band.  page.  Help us introduce our music to more people our band to grow.


Here's the link to our ReverbNation music page.  It's free to register and listen and there's a lot of great music on the site.  You can be a fan of our band if you like, and even join the street team, which will be getting some stuff to do this year!

Take care, and we love to hear from you, so drop us a note!

Mike and the band

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The Wall in Washington: "A Sense of all"

Vietnam Memorial, Washington D. C., 2010 Photo by Mike Marcellino

A sense of all
by Mike Marcellino

Fragments, parts
bits and pieces
of you and me
shells on the beach,
pine cones at Yellowstone.

Fragments, parts
bits and pieces
memories of songs we loved
revolutions survived.

Fragments, parts
bits and pieces
now worn down,
most look like India, Africa
So where is Gandhi
and King?
We still need them.

Fragments, parts
bits and pieces
pastels, holes, linear cracks 
in our unfinished business -
making life just,
not for a few.

Fragments, parts
bits and pieces
of forts
ancient hideouts.
Where are you now
that we need you?

Fragments, parts
bits and pieces
of souls lost;
so, what does it take
to put us
back together?

Fragments, parts
bits and pieces;
we'll be okay, complete
as long as we
don't lose a sense of all.

Copyright Mike Marcellino 2011

Friday, November 11, 2011

Will war ever bring peace?

 "Search & destroy" photo by Mike Marcellino, TET Offensive, Vietnam War, 1968, on a mission with the 23rd South Vietnamese Rangers and U. S. Army 23rd Artillery forward observers.


Will war ever bring peace?
by Mike Marcellino


"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers."  -José Narosky, Argentine writer, mostly of amorphisms

I don't know of the war experience of Narosky, or how he came to write this, but the quote is true.


Today is Veterans Day, November 11, 2011.  There hasn't been a calendar day like this since November 11, 1911, before the outbreak of World War I.

Our Veterans Day began as the moment fighting ceased in World War I, 11am, November 11, 1918.  This moment in our history has become known as Veterans Day in America.

This makes today's Veterans Day the calendar moment of 11-11-11-11, the eleventh hour of the eleventh day in the eleventh month in the year two thousand and eleven.  You can take this to the craps tables in Las Vegas, but it hasn't brought peace.  We are still fighting in Afghanistan and maintain troops in Iraq and all over the world. 


"Courage is fear holding on a minute longer." -George S. Patton, general, U. S. Army, WWII

U. S. Army Soldiers of the 101st Airborne patrol a mountainous village in the rugged Spira mountains in Khost province, along the Afghan-Pakistan Borde.  (Photo David Furst / AFP / Getty Images)

I found this photo on an interesting website started in 1984 to help soldiers from World War II, both Americans and Germans locate the places where they fought.  It's called the US Veterans Contact point and Information Center and was founded in Malmedy, Belgium.  Here's the link to the website for a further look at an interesting project. (Malmedy is well know as the site of the massacre of 71 unarmed U. S. troops by German troops during the Battle of the Bulge in World War II.)

Oddly, there hasn't been a date like this for a century, since November 11, 1911.  Since then Americans, patriots, if you will, have fought, died and been wounded in two world wars and wars in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as excursions into Grenada and Panama, not to mention countless other military interventions. Here is the link to the Wikipedia timeline of United States military operations since 1776:

Timeline of U. S. military operations


While the sacrifice of American soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen, should be honored in deed every day of the year, the list of U. S. military operations is enough to choke a horse. 

We, as a nation, must ask ourselves, to what end? What are we fighting, dying and being maimed for?  Where is the peace?

Some day we should swap our M-16s for shovels and see if that brings peace.

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." -John Fitzgerald Kennedy

"My Girls" photo by Mike Marcellino, 1968, Vietnam War

Finally, we invite your to listen to our lyrical poetry song recording, "The Walls of Fire," an ode to the sacrifice by American troops from the Civil War to Afghanistan. There's a music player right up top.  If you'd like to "like" us on our Facebook music page here's the link.

Mike Marcellino's artist page on Facebook

Our music website is on ReverbNation where our band is #30 Top Folk Artist on the New York City chart.

Learn about, listen to our music on ReverbNation

Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Walls of Fire - the song, lyrics and story


The Walls of Fire: story behind the song
by Mike Marcellino

Here's one of my favorite photographs I took while serving as a U. S. Army correspondent and photojournalist in the Vietnam War.  I like it because it's so pastoral, a far cry from the horror of war.

Recently I wrote a poem about the sacrifices of American troops from the Civil War to Vietnam and the gulf wars and we recorded the song, "The Walls of Fire."


Mike Marcellino took this photo with a Pentax 35 mm camera on search and destroy mission with the 33rd South Vietnamese Rangers and United States Army forward observers of the U.S. Army 23rd Artillery Group in the Iron Triangle during the Vietnam War in 1968.

The mission occurred during The TET Offensive, a surprise attack by North Vietnamese regular and VC troops throughout South Vietnam.  The enemy attack began on January 31, breaking the Vietnamese New Year's holiday cease fire.  TET was the heaviest fighting of the war. With heavy U. S. casualties and scenes of the VC taking over the American Embassy in Saigon (for a few hours), TET was the turning point in growing opposition to the war by the American people.  TET was was a complete military victory for U. S. troops, nearly eliminating all of the Viet Cong forces.  North Vietnamese troops took over the fight.  After the signing of a peace treaty in Paris the United States withdrew its forces in 1973.  The North Vietnam defeated the South Vietnam in 1975 and Vietnam was reunified.

For his reporting on the mission, the Rangers presented Mike with a captured Viet Cong flag during a formal ceremony. More than 40 years later, he still has the flag.  (Copyright by Mike Marcellino)

To listen here's the link (or there's a music player on the top of his blog)

The Walls of Fire on ReverbNation


The walls of fire
By Mike Marcellino

The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
rock cliffs and open fields -
Hornet’s Nest at Shiloh
Devil’s Den, Gettysburg.

The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
sea to shining sea -
lost in the Argonne Forest
face down on beaches at Normandy
frozen by the waters of Chosin Reservoir.

The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
paddies, highlands -
Nui Ba Dinh, the Black Virgin Mountain
the Ashau Valley
along the perimeter of Khe Sanh.

The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood, carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
empty deserts
filled with giant rising suns -
Fallujah rooftops
unknown streets of Sadr City
barren mountains, caves of Tora Bora.

The walls of fire
grow higher, still higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching.

The walls of fire copyright by Mike Marcellino 2009



Thursday, December 16, 2010

Joan Baez and my Oriental River girl

Oriental River, South Vietnam 1968 photo by Mike Marcellino, copyright 2010

Joan Baez and the Girl in the Oriental River

by Mike Marcellino

Twenty-seven years after I left the Vietnam War, after serving for a year 1967-68 as a U. S. Army combat correspondent and photojournalist, On August 20, 1995 I found myself seated in a campfire chair talking with Joan Baez, just as I would the girl next door.  I had listened to Joan's albums, attended concerts, one at the former Front Row Theatre with a moving circular stage.  I reviewed that concert for Sun Newspapers.

Darkness had set and it was quite outside Joan's tent in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park south of Cleveland where she had
performed for a Heritage Series Concert.  I thought back to listening over and over to "banks of the Ohio" my favorite Baez song.

As I worked as an aide to then Mayor Michael White,I came armed with  a proclamation, honoring Joan not only for her voice but her courageous opposition to the Vietnam War and support for human rights, all at great risk to her career.

Rather than an M-14 rifle, I carried to the concert a harmless treasure of seven hand printed black and white photographs I had taken of children caught in war.  One of the photographs shows  a young Vietnamese girl, smiling as she climbed out of the Oriental River balancing on a 155 mm shell casing and holding onto barbed wire.  It was June 1968, the year the TET offensive by the VC and North Vietnamese regular throughout the country never seemed to end.  I was following battery of 155 mm howitzers manned by the soldiers of the 2nd Battalion, 11th Artillery of the 23rd Artillery Group, my home base.

Again, I was in the middle of nowhere, alone and as almost always, without a weapon (or a toothbrush).  But I had my notebooks, pens and cameras to record it all in stories and photos for Stars and Strips, the Army Reporter and other publications. 

It was a bizarre scene in a bizarre war, one where the battle cry was often "The End" by The Doors.  It was hot and it appeared the nearby Vietnamese village had come down to the Oriental River for a swim, right in the middle of a war.  I was tempted but didn't join them in the murky river.  Nearby was a camp of the 5th Special Forces called Tra Cu, 23 miles west of Saigon.  I think they called this the Second Battle of Saigon.  We won both battles, as we did all the battles but lost the war as it was a civil war and the South Vietnamese leaders weren't very popular and the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong weren't about to ever give up.

I walked up to the door of the Special Forces hooch (a primitive house made of concrete block, wire screening and a tin roof).  A gruff looking sergeant told me to go away; it seems Special Forces isn't interested in publicity.

Joan Baez's first album, 1960, Vanguard (Wikipedia)


I knew the one she would pick, the young Vietnamese girl  climbing out of the Oriental River.  I hope Joan still has it. (I have a museum quality, hand printed framed version still, along with the other six, that includes U. S. Army artillerymen, the 33rd South Vietnamese Rangers on a search and destroy mission, an elite unit, and other children coping in war.
I always wonder what happened to the girl from the Oriental River.


i knew joan baez
by mike marcellino

i knew joan baez
joan baez.
i knew she would
pick
this
one,
her little sister.
joan baez
i knew she would
pick
this one.
she had a choice -
barbwire
or
bobbing 155 mm shell casing
on the Oriental River,

no number
rung sat zone
south, southeast of Saigon
the delta hell on earth,
special forces
say.
i knew joan baez
joan baez,
i knew she would pick this one,
like her little sister -
joan baez,
i knew joan baez.
i knew she would pick this one.
copyright Mike Marcellino 2010

Here one of my favorite songs of Joan Baez that fits the story pretty well - "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" (written by Bob Dylan).  This is a beautiful recording.


The official website of Joan Baez

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Friday, January 15, 2010

A song of the Haitian spirit in "Flatbush," story of a homeland tragedy

Earthquake and America in Haiti
Saving lives and a nation
by Mike Marcellino

In the aftermath of the earthquake, President Obama is acting swiftly to bring critically needed aid to Haiti.  


But, with this massive natural disaster, the president has inherited a dismal American record in the world's first black republic created by former slaves.  The legacy includes occupation, rejection of  political refugees and neglect in nation building in the world's first black republic, less than 700 miles from Miami.
Haiti lies in ruins with estimates of 250,000 or more dead. 

Does the U. S. and United Nations grasp the enormity of the situation?  After 72 hours without water, food and medical attention, the survivors will start dying, according to experts. In addition to reaching people trapped in rubble in Port-au-Prince, other cities, like coastal town of Jacmel, are isolated as roads have collapsed.  

Military officials have already ruled out air drops of supplies citing concerns of causing chaos and violence, though 10,000 U. S. troops will be in Haiti or off the coast by Monday.



While all human disasters are equally tragic and disturbing, this one hit me personally as I recently spent time living Flatbush, Brooklyn, one of the largest Haitian American communities.

This working and middle class neighborhood is majority West Indian, especially Haitian.  They live in a flat plain founded in the 16th century by the Dutch whose graves remain, though faceless, outside a church filled with Haitians, who still practice voodoo.

Dutch graves in a cemetery outside a church in Flatbush, one of the largest Haitian communities in the U. S. photo by Mike Marcellino



Walking my friends' white dog around the block, going to the supermarket, buying some meat pies, getting to the train station or just wandering, I was struck by the kind, respectful and happy nature of my Haitian neighbors.  I rarely saw another white person, yet never felt like a minority.  


The spirit and nature of Haitians and others from countries like Grenada, Trinidad and Jamaica inspired a song I wrote and recorded simply called "Flatbush."  Now I feel my friends are in trouble and need help.

(If you wish, you may listen to the recording "Flatbush" on the music player on top of this blog) 
 


Haitians will survive, you can feel it.  They have "demele, " a Creole word that means "to manage life in the face of hardship." 


Haitians overcame slavery and founded the world's first black republic in1804.  They have survived dictators, being turned back by the U. S. Navy in their boats seeking political refuge, abject poverty (Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere) and hurricanes.   


The outpouring by the American people and organizations is encouraging.  You can even donate $10 automatically by texting the Red Cross on your cell phone. Folks in Miami are appealing on Facebook for volunteers to load supplies for Haiti.  A benefit concert, "Hope for Haiti," is already planned.

The sight of American troops on the ground in Haiti and a aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson is America at its best.  Will we act quickly enough, or will get bogged down by red tape and the lack of imagination?

This disaster may have a silver lining if it serves as wake up call for the U. S. to stay the course in Haiti.  


The U. S. controlled Haiti for nearly two decades ending in 1934.  Marine Corps commanders governed the provinces.  More than 2,000 Haitians died in a revolt crushed by U. S. forces in 1918.  Marines killed 10 Haitians protesting economic conditions in 1929. 

Before the U. S. departure, a commission appointed by President Hoover, recognized material improvements during the occupation, but pointed out that Haitians were excluded from decision making  in the process.  The commission concluded:
"The social forces that created [instability] still remain--poverty, ignorance, and the lack of a tradition or desire for orderly free government." 


A bad example of helping build a free and prosperous nation.  


The New York Times Friday, published a debate among Haiti experts, "Is the U. S. Doing Enough for Haiti?"  In the article, University of Chicago professor Greg Beckett makes a case for "a long term commitment for durable change."

Beckett, a Harper Fellow in social sciences studying the environmental, urban and political crisis in Port au Prince, further states -

"The U.S. has a long, strained relationship with Haiti, and more than any other country it has a political responsibility to lead efforts to rebuild the country. In the past, the U.S. has occupied and administered Haiti, given support and financial assistance to governments, trained the military, led stabilization missions and shaped economic policy.

"The occupation of 1915-1934 centralized military and political authority in Port-au-Prince, but left little in the form of infrastructural improvement. Economic policies have left Haiti dependent and persistently poor. Aid initiatives have bypassed the government and contributed to the weakening of state and social institutions." 


Today, despite of the United Nations' peace keeping force of 8,000 troops and the presence of 10,000 humanitarian workers, Haitian mothers still commonly make "dirt cookies" for their children to eat. They can't afford food.

Yet, the Haitian spirit endures.  Haitians still pound shape beautiful metal art from recycled steel drums. Now they wonder whether any buyers will be able to reach them in the devastation.   


When the Marines open the roads again, let's hope the United States gets nation building in Haiti right this time.

The fate of rebuilding Haiti lies with America's first president of color.  But for now President Obama has a more pressing question to answer.  The Marines have landed in Haiti and they are asking, "Who's in charge." (source, Christian Science Monitor, Jan, 14, 2010)



copyright Mike Marcellino 2010

Friday, January 8, 2010

"The Walls of Fire" a recording, poem and photostory by Mike Marcellino



The walls of fire
By Mike Marcellino

The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
rock cliffs and open fields -
Hornet’s Nest at Shiloh
Devil’s Den, Gettysburg.




The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
sea to shining sea -
lost in the Argonne Forest
face down on beaches at Normandy
frozen by the waters of Chosin Reservoir.

The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
paddies, highlands -
Nui Ba Dinh, the Black Virgin Mountain
the Ashau Valley
along the perimeter of Khe Sanh.

The walls of fire
grow higher, higher
pools of blood, carnage
bodies of brothers
touching
empty deserts
filled with giant rising suns -
Fallujah rooftops
unknown streets of Sadr City
barren mountains, caves of Tora Bora.

The walls of fire
grow higher, still higher
pools of blood
carnage
bodies of brothers
touching.

The walls of fire copyright by Mike Marcellino 2009

Photos by Mike Marcellino, South Vietnam, 1967-68 Copyright 2010

(top) "My Girls" (right) "Oriental River" and (below) "Search and Destory"

Mike served in the US Army as a combat correspondent and photojournalist in the Vietnam War from 1967 to 1968.

He  recorded "The Walls of Fire" as the folk band's fourth poetry song in November 2009.  Mike is songwriter and vocalist and Tomas Texino composed the music.


You may listen to the recording of "The Walls of Fire" on the music player here or visit our band site at ReverbNation.  You've invited to be a follower of Mike's blog, "The Point of the Whole Thing" and a fan of the band on ReverbNation and the band's Facebook page.

Mike Marcellino on ReverbNation

Mike Marcellino on Facebook

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

"Asterisks after innocence"

"My Girls" Vietnam War, 1968
photo by Mike Marcellino
 Copyright 2009

Asterisks after innocence
by mike marcellino

Living
in forgotten times
shot, struck down
nine eleven
seven eleven
mortars
rockets
IEDs
fire balls
in the tallest towers
a thirty-eight stub nose
or
nine millimeter
in the corner store
asterisks after innocence.

Living
in forgotten times
shot,
struck down
by Viet Cong
terrorists
Audie Murphy -
Wha'd you say?
Hey hey,
Don't you know,
Barry Bonds
was once Willie Mays
asterisks after innocence.

Living in forgotten times
shot,
struck down
by armies
of good people -
Muslims
Germans
The NVA
Special Forces of The USA.
Shot, struck down
mothers
children
fathers
grandparents.
Shot,
struck down
listening to
dictators
democrats
deciders.
Asterisks after innocence
living
in forgotten times.

Copyright Mike Marcellino, 2008

Reflections on "Asterisks"


Perhaps it's the times - wars, collapse of our financial system and housing values, a deep recession.
Perhaps it's what a few people wrote in response to a column I wrote about the growing crisis of hunger in America.



Perhaps for both reasons, or no reason at all, I dug out a poetry song I wrote in early 2008, nearly two years ago. The piece was recorded by my first band, Split Peace, before my entry on Facebook and ReverbNation. I recorded and performed "Asterisks"  with Abe Olvido, a multimedia artist and sound innovator, in Cleveland.


This September, we formed a new folk band when, after a decade absence, I returned to a place I love, St. Augustine, Florida to visit an Army buddy, Tomas Texino, a musician and writer.  Working together, with Tomas, playing mandolin and guitar and composing the music, we recorded four songs, three new and one old, "Bondi beach."  Later, I traveled to visit music friends in Brooklyn, New York and there musician Randall Leddy joined with me, playing guitar and composing "Flatbush," about the West Indian neighborhood the Dutch founded in the 1500s.
  
Our new band is simply called Mike Marcellino and in nine weeks ranks in the top 10% of Folk Artists on ReverbNation's New York City, National and Global charts.

(The band's now has reached as high as #19 Top Folk Artists in New York City and is currently at #28. Our listeners come from virtually every state and many other countries, from England, Ireland and Australia to Germany, China, South Korea and Russia, among many others.)


Not sure what all this means, if anything, but I love to body surf and have learned to tolerate a wetsuit now that the Atlantic water's down to 65 degrees.

From time to time, I'll share past poetry songs and recordings, like "Asterisks," along with new ones.

"Asterisks" seems like such a long time ago, as so much has happened in the world since the late winter of 2008. I decided to post it here, now. Somehow the song seems more meaningful now than ever.

Postscript: Hard to image it's been nearly three years since I wrote this backstory about "Asterisk's after innocence."  It's a powerful song, even to the writer.  

A lot has happened in three years, but we've fallen on the New York City folk charts to #42.  But, as i think Iris Dement once said, "It's not a race."  Or maybe a lot of us said that. (I grew tired trying to keep up with the Internet world.)

I again offer this song to you as our children are so so important to our world.  We must love and care for them.  They should not go wanting and have a chance to be happy. 

If you'd like to listen to "Asterisks" go to the music box at the top of my blog here.  Let's us know what you think about it.  That would mean a lot, hearing from you all. - Mike

Friday, November 20, 2009

"Bondi beach," surf Aborigines call "water over rocks"


Bondi Beach, New South Wales, Australia ( Photo by Duncan Rawlinson)



Bondi beach: a story and song
A song of a Yank surfer on a flight from Vietnam to Australia to survive big waves at a place Aborigines call "water over rocks"

A new recording by folk poetry band Mike Marcellino

Listen on the widgets on Notebook Writer, or on our band site on ReverbNation

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Mike - lyrics, vocal
Tomas Texino - guitar, drum, composition, production
Recorded in St. Augustine Florida, November 20, 2009


Bondi beach
by Mike Marcellino

From an old French
airfield,
Tan Son Nhat,
a khaki clad
Yank surfer
flew
four thousand miles
a mission of redemption
to New South Wales
into the water over rocks
the Aborigines
call
Bondi beach.

A mate’s long board
overhead,
dinged
water logged,
the Yank surfer
twisted
by ever strong winds
made his way
down
into the water over rocks
the Aborigines 
call
Bondi beach.

Flat
on
his long board
arms
cutting
the surf,
the lone
silent rider
left in his wake, rice paddies
and triple canopy jungles,
kept head of rip currents
and deadly bull sharks
into the water over rocks
the Aborigines 
call
Bondi beach.

For the seventh wave
he waited, the Yank
surfer
took off
all out
the twelve foot high
wave
crashed
over head,
sent the long board
flying
like an arrow,
driving him
deep
into the water over rocks
the Aborigines
call
Bondi beach.

Bondi beach, Copyright Mike Marcellino, 2008, 2009

Sunday, October 18, 2009

The Post Surf Report



Rainbow, St. Augustine Beach, Florida  
photo by mike marcellino copyright 2009

Post Surf Report: St. Augustine Beach

By Mike Marcellino

Digging into the Internet to find data on shark attacks in the waters off the coast of St. Augustine, Florida probably wasn’t the writer’s best idea.

Sharks attacks are six times more likely off the northeast coast of Florida than in Hawaiian waters.  About an hour south of St. Augustine, lies New Smyrna Beach, known as “the shark attack capital of the world.”  “Great tourist line,” he thought.

It had been a dozen years since the writer had surfed northern Florida. At least he body surfed a few weeks before starting to research shark attack data for his new surfing blog -The Post-Surf Report. The writer chose the title of his new surfing series appearing in his Networked Blog, “The Point of the Whole Thing,” because it reminds him of cereal and The Washington Post

After his absence for his first love, surfing, the writer body surfed nearly every day since he arrived in St. Augustine Beach in mid September.  No hurricanes, a real draught.  Too bad, hurricanes bring bigger waves to northern Florida, but not this year. 

On his first day out, the writer was relaxing, treading, floating on his back in waters over his head when he heard,

“A shark hit by board.” the surfer said, passing by.  The waters were dark blue to black and murky.  The young surfer’s comment was dumb but unsettling.  “Why bother to tell me that?” the writer thought.  The waves were ragged, breaking fast, but he caught them whenever he wanted, some three feet high.

“He was as big as me,” he added.

The writer looked at the guy, without expression or a word. 

In the water, he thought about sharks, sometimes, not often. Once, a shadow freaked him out, but he realized it was his own, visible when the sun flickered.  Near record heat in Florida into the middle of October until a cold front finally came through.  He didn’t think much about sharks onshore. 

He told another surfer as he swam further south about the shark comment.  “He probably wanted to get you out of the water,” the surfer said, casually.  He added, “There are sharks out here all the time, especially when the mullets are running.”  The mullets come into the Atlantic from the Matanzas River south of Crescent Beach, just below St. Augustine. “Matanzas” is a Spanish word meaning “massacre.”

“How comforting,” the writer muttered to himself.

“Less talk about sharks, the better,” thought. 

Surfers, or swimmers, are more likely to die from a bee sting, or get struck by lightening, than get bit by a shark. 

That’s true in St. Augustine Beach, or any beach in Florida.  Surfers are the object of 57% of shark attacks.  Da, surfers are in the water much longer than swimmers and in deeper water there’s more room for the bigger sharks.

According International Shark Attack File at the Florida Museum of Natural History, these species of sharks most often attacked people in Florida waters from 1944 to 2008: Bull, Spinner, Blacktip, Hammerhead, Nurse, Tiger, Lemon, Sandbar, Blue and Mako

The writer started getting rather fascinated by sharks while writing his first surfing Internet column.  Searching, he discovered The ReefQuest Center for Shark Research maintained by Alex Buttigieg of Malta

Here’s the opening message on Alex’s website, Sharkman’s World Organization to Save and Protect Sharks:

For hundreds of years, Mankind has feared this creature. We have been brainwashed with visions of Shark Attacks, from stories and legends passed down from one generation to the next, from paintings, books, news papers, cinemas, etc... But what are the real facts? Are Sharks truly monsters of the deep? Are they all Man-eaters? What makes them so misunderstood?  Should sharks be protected?

These questions and many others will be solved in these pages. Together we shall take a look and find out the facts. So if you are interested, and want to learn more............. Keep an Eye on this page, I guarantee you will not regret it.

You enter his site by clicking on the skeleton of a shark with his mouth wide open (reminiscent of “Jaws,” which the writer never tires of watching.)  Alex’s site won an award for the best personal website in Malta.  The writer wonders just how many people live in Malta (403,532) and how many Maltese have websites (a few are written in the Maltese language).

In the world, Sharkman’s World Website www.sharkmans-world.com is the No. 530,810 most popular Website in the world, while www.staugustine.com is No. 81,834.  Putting this in some perspective the Website of the New York Times is No. 202. 

The writer found that MySpace is nearly three times more popular than Facebook, according to his unidentified website source.

The writer couldn’t resist by adding that the Vatican (Holy Sea, sorry, a surfer’s slip, make that See) only has 11 most popular sites, all the sites are inside the Vatican. Faith really reaches out.  Here’s No. 1 in the Holy See - www.vatican.va

The most popular site in Vietnam reveals times really are changing.  The most popular Internet site today in Vietnam, site of America’s longest war, is all about hotels - www.vietnamhotel-link.com.vn .    

Back to surfing.

In the water, surfers talk little, about sharks or anything, except a bit with their friends, but not much them either.  Surfers are doers, not talkers.  Surfers live in a world of their own, one that’s as hard to describe as feeling a surfer gets shooting in the curl of a big, well formed wave in glassy water.

The writer did meet one surfer, Cameron, and the two talked while waiting for a wave worth riding.  Cameron’s from Louisiana.  The writer found out he works as a deep sea diver repairing oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico.  A good photo feature story some day, the writer thought.

A few girls surf St. Augustine Beach and they’re pretty good too.  They are even more laid back than the guys.  Their bodies seem to melt on their boards.  So far the writer’s spotted a few good surfers – one wearing a light blue suit, another in a dark blue suit and another with long bleach blonde hair. 

Surfers do acknowledge either other on St. Augustine Beach.  Walking the quarter mile back to where he got into the water, the writer passes surfers, boards under arm.  Usually, they give a knowing glance, a nod, maybe a word or two, like “hey.” Nothing profound.  Sometimes surfer boys, or skateboarders, about the same age as the writer when he started body surfing in California, say hi to the writer as he peddles his borrowed three speed girls’ bike along A1A, the highway hugging the shoreline along St. Augustine Beach.

Before the cold front dropped temperatures from near 90 to the 60s, the writer caught his best wave.

His timing was just right. The surfer’s arms stretched, cut through the wall of the wave, body straight.  He was in the right place at the right time, inside the wave, already covering him.  He felt himself shoot, fast, right out of the front of the wave.  He sailed outside the wave.  He flew in air, inside the mouth of the wave. 

The writer didn’t think about sharks that day.  In the late afternoon, unexpectedly the ocean had flattened, the waves took better form, rising and falling more gradually without much white water.  The wave could have been four feet or more.  He can’t categorize or define the feeling he got on that wave.  Other than looking out not to get run over by a surfboard, the writer find himself along body surfing in the ocean. 

How does surfing make the writer feel?

If everything goes right, it’s like shooting down a small mountain of water.  You’re part of the wave, you’re faster than the wave, then you free of the wave,” he says.

Nature gives signals on the beach, like reflections of distant thunder clouds – all shades of blue, white grey - illuminated by setting suns in flat sand pools onshore. (That signal led him to write a poem song, “Spirits of St. Augustine.”)

Nature sent another signal the day before the writer shot out of the curl in a four foot wave.  After light, warm showers on and off most of the day, in late afternoon the clouds broke, scattered and the writer biked to the A Street inlet. 

On the beach, the writer was startled.  He looked north and saw distant giant rainbow circling the horizon from Jacksonville to some unknown spot in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

As a 7-year-old, Mike Marcellino lived two blocks from the ocean in Long Beach, California.  For four years, he body surfed every day except in winter. He never wore a wet suit. 

In 1968, Mike board surfed off Bondi Beach, Australia. He was on R & R (rest and recuperation) from the Vietnam War, where he served in the U.S. Army as a combat correspondent and photojournalist.  He wrote a poetry song about surviving those eight days near Sidney and recorded the piece, “Bondi beach.”  You may listen to the song at www.myspace.com/splitpeace.  In his research, Mike discovered Bondi Beach is the third most shark infested waters in the world. 

Mike board surfed off St. Augustine Beach in the 1980s and 1990s.  Away from the ocean for 12 years, he returned in the later summer of 2009 and began body surfing off Florida’s northeast coast.  He loves surfing and looks forward to getting a used board, a long board.  Contact Mike by email at hangten1066@yahoo.com


The photo above is a Blacktip Reef Shark, Pacific cousin to the Blacktip Shark found in waters off the Florida coast.  The Blacktip can be six feet long and is responsible for 28 unprovoked shark attacks against humans.  They are responsible for 16% of the attacks that occur in Florida water, often striking surfers.

The Post Surf Report, copyright by Mike Marcellino 2009