Dada Abstentia: In Trump We Bust

Dada Trump Abstentia (by Jay Schwartz(

You crazy white girl for Africa!
You screaming banshee from Attica!
Soothing words of Seneca?
Check your mind in abstentia!

We’ve got the makings of utopia!
We’d rather build fucking dystopia!
We will not tolerate differentia!
We check our minds in abstentia!

We want a cultural Siberia!
We want to worship Wikipedia!
We want to burn encyclopedias!
We check our minds in abstentia!

We want to cultivate fantasia!
We want historical dementia!
We want to liberate our labia!
We check our minds in abstentia!

We want to castrate nymphomania!
We want to censor genitalia!
We celebrate schizophrenia!
We check our minds in abstentia!

We check our minds in abstentia!
We check our minds in abstentia!
We check our minds in abstentia!
We check our minds in abstentia!

(And the sheep say …)
Vote For Trump!
Vote For Trump!
(And the sheep say …)
Baa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-h!
(And the sheep say …)
Baa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-h!

Note: And remember kiddies, #Imwithher and #Donaldtrumpisabellend!


WATCH THE VIDEO!

‘Trump Abstentia’
Music & Lyrics by Jay Leonard Schwartz (ASCAP)
Published ELTzone Records (ASCAP)
Performed live by ‘The Transmystic Blues Sniffers’
Video produced & created by: Jay Schwartz (Dada Bloq Productions)

The Bridge Is Still Out

Dada Bridge
Dada Bridge – (Jay Schwartz)

The bridge is still out.
The gap remains.
The water rages below, like my blood.
I graciously wait, impatiently.

Maybe, I think, I ought to save my burning gas …
but my engine won’t quit.
I wonder if I should jump this bridge to reach the other side.
Can I make it or will I fail, falling into the liquid abyss?

Did I see you wave from the other side?
So close it seems to touch you …
but so far is the uncertain distance, I worry.
My heart has a tortured mind of its own.
It tries to scratch and claw its way out of my chest.
It propels itself into my throat and I have to swallow it down to breath again.

The engine finally sputters and chokes.
Chicken shit.
I return home alone.
The bridge is still out.
The gap remains.

The Call Center for Existential Obscenities

Dada Obscenity - Jay Schwartz

You have reached the ‘Call Center for Existential Obscenities’.
Please hold.

When only the obscene can be seen, taboo fears require puritan counter-measures.
Indifference fuels the irrational and the self-absorbed.
The helpless mutates into a victim of necrotic tendencies and can no longer transmute.
– If you would like to ‘call for help’, please stay on the line. Continue reading

An Open Letter Of Thanks To Brian Wilson

Brian Wilson Reimagines GershwinA personal post:

Today I found myself flying musically … at the public library. You see, as I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve been coming here to work and go on-line. I am desperately trying to ride a creative high and meet a personal deadline to complete production of my film, Dada Venduza, against mounting financial and personal odds. The last two days found me re-creating the feel of the film for its soundtrack I’ll release on CD and here online. For some tracks, I’ve been combining, in true dada mode, a collage of music, speech and sound effects from the film. I’ve been having a blast doing so.

Anyway, back to my flying at the public library. I was listening to the album, ‘Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin’, and since I’m currently hoping to put together a musical performance of Gershwin tunes … I sort of have George and Ira’s songs on my brain. Their musical essence transcends almost any any cover you might here … and provided fuel for flight.

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Dada Venduza & Capital Controls

Jay Schwrartz, Director of Dada VenduzaIt’s not easy being an American dadaist, living in Greece. In these times of economic turmoil & crisis, I am absolutely giddy with acerbic creativity, but I have vowed to maintain my composure and remain somewhat apathetic (my emotional intelligence goal for the week). It’s important to remember, as Grouch Marx said (and I am prone to repeat often) that “denial is not just a river in Egypt.”

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Dancing On Broken Toes

Dancing On Broken Toes

 

How easily do our airy flights of fancy escape the gravity of our mundane lives.

We reach with dreams of fickle laced lightness for that which lies beyond our corporeal grasp.

The ‘what ifs’ come with practice, spring-boarding from disillusion and delusion.

We hang ourselves on a whim, a promise, a commitment … a figment of our imagination.

We dance. Our toes break.

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Mirror, Mirror Off The Wall

“I used to live in a room full of mirrors; all I could see was me. I take my spirit and I crash my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see.”
– Jimi Hendrix (A Room Full Of Mirrors)

 

I find it strange that mirrors don’t come with instructions. They are, in fact, one of the most dangerously brutal objects found in our homes, harboring the potential to destroy our emotional well-being with ease. They threaten our image of ourselves, and even at times warp our perceptions. And yet, there is no warning label about their misuse.

Their addictive properties offer a vise to both the vain and the masochistic. For the naive, they readily shatter precious illusions and reflect the naked distortion of our imagined perfection. Yes, mirrors are uncompromising in their function, merciless in capacity, and indignant to their facility.

Seeking the truth through the ‘looking glass’ we stare … and lie to ourselves about our reflection, reflecting our own hypocrisy or delusion.

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In For A Penny: Debtors’ Prison In The USA

Debtors; Prison – Anywhere, USA

“A nation’s greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members.”

– Mahatma Ghandi
 
“The measure of a society is found in how they treat their weakest and most helpless citizens.”
– James Earl “Jimmy” Carter, Jr.

 

I had a different post in mind for this week … until I read about the following news item that just made me sick:

Lisa Lindsay, a breast cancer survivor in Illinois, was arrested for a disputed $280 medical bill, which in fact she was told she did not have to pay. Nevertheless, the bill was turned over to a collection agency, and the next thing she knew, local State Troopers bombarded her home and hauled her off to jail in handcuffs. (Insert painful pregnant pause here) Yes, apparently in the United States of America – the home of the co-called ‘free’, debtors’ prisons, previously abolished in the 1830’s, are making a comeback.

You read this news item (links below) and you get the idea that there has to be more to this story. You get the feeling that the thousands of dollars that went into the arrest of this poor breast cancer survivor, over a billing error, just doesn’t make sense. But it’s true.

Folks, something is very wrong in the United States of America. Something that defies all logic and what might be referred to as ‘humanity’. Something that should be an insult to all … but it’s not. Instead, its ‘business’ as usual. It seems the game of ‘life’ is really just a game of ‘Monopoly’ to the government and Big Business. No money? Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass go …

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The Letter I Never Sent

Dearest Dear,

I know it’s been awhile since we’ve talked or even exchanged insubstantial pleasantries. In fact, I can’t even remember that last time your name came up in conversation. Still, I feel there are things that needed to be said even after all this time has passed. 

I know you might still be angry, or elated … maybe a bit of both. I wouldn’t know since we seem to have lost contact – neither of us taking the time to give a damn and both of us more than happy to let the distance and time to grow between us.

I’ve often thought that maybe it’s better this way. Maybe this is the way it should be. Maybe we both feel ‘off the hook’, as you once suggested … or was it me? Still, there are times when all the old feelings rush back to me … and somewhere deep inside me a subtle urge begins to build, boiling my psyche alive.

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All Thumbs Going Forward

“Whatever you get paid attention for is never what you think is most important about yourself.”
– David Foster Wallace

Last Thursday, in one of those ‘stupid clumsy me’ moments, I bashed my hand against a wall and screwed up my right thumb. As I’ve had my fair share of broken bones over the years, I didn’t think it was fractured and even managed to play guitar with it for a couple of hours with my buddy. Nevertheless, I had it x-rayed the next morning just to be safe; it was swollen and stiff, and the thumb, too! 

While waiting for the x-ray report to come in, I sat thinking back to when I had broken both elbows in a bike accident a couple of years ago, on April Fool’s Day no less. I thought about how crappy it would be to start the New Year incapacitated, trying to get by with my left hand, especially as I’m right-handed. I thought about toasting the New Year holding a champagne glass in my shaky left hand, as well as typing this post one letter at a time in true ‘hunt and peck’ fashion. I considered how 2011 might be giving me one last kick in the crotch before it winks out of existence. And then, a sobering thought struck me, “aww was 2011 really so bad to me?”

About 6 hours before my accident, I had been reading the last post of Joe Bodolai, a comedy writer with many notable television stints to his credit, including Saturday Night Live (SNL). Eulogizing himself, he listed his life’s achievements in length, as well as noted his regrets, personal peeves and even his sardonic predictions for the coming year. He then closed his extensive suicide note expressing thanks to the many who had been a part of his life, as well as suggesting “I need to feel the good that I did and whatever good I have ever done for you is enough for me.” … Well, apparently whatever good he did in his life wasn’t ‘good enough’ for him to rest his laurels on and so he offed himself by drinking a mixture of Gatorade and antifreeze.

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