New Edition of Sound-Bites

 

Sounds of the Cold zine is complete.
It’s a frigid edition of Sound-Bites to celebrate the last days of winter.
Click the link for a view of the 24-page spread.
Physical copies will be released at the party.

Contributors include: Sam Kulvete, Marlee Leebick-Stryker, Zachary Flessert, Jean Clarke, Anne Meyers-Welsch, Matt Soza, and Eran Hornick.

Message me for details about the release party or to request a copy of the zine. Love you!

 

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Home sounds like that Mason Jennings song

greenhouse
Photographs and lyrics submitted by Moriah Baltz

Raindrops on the kitchen floor and the curtain is blowing where the window’s open

Your arms wrapped around my neck and the kitchen sink is just overflowing

Spring flower by a singing stream and the secret to the thing is to let nothing divide us

One boat in an open sea it’s just you and me and our hearts to guide us

(See full issue of the Sound-Bites zine here).

house in the woods
Lyrics from ‘Raindrops on the Kitchen Floor’ by Mason Jennings

Home sounds like shower water

Listen here, the coffee’s brewed.

“Home sounds like the water in the shower my son is taking. It is the laughter and comfort of he and his brothers voices, musings and their lives winding and weaving away and then back again”

~Cindy

Maine

ki

‘From the Lake’ by Georgia O’Keefe

Sun Prairie, Wisconsin

Check out the rest of the Sound-Bites project.

Home sounds like mom opera

My mother was a character.  Yep, 100% enthusiasm, live for the moment, competitive, vibrant, friendly, inquisitive.  She was the center of our home growing up 70s style.  Dad went to work and Mom stayed home.  Placing orders with Rusty the milkman – do you have that blueberry ice cream you had last summer?  Waving to the mailman – hello Frank!  Accepting packages from the  G. Fox delivery man – thanks, I’ve been waiting for these dresses forever!  And warding off the Fuller Brush salesman – no I don’t need to replace the vacuum today, thank you!

All was kept in good order around the house.

Except.

Except, on Saturday afternoons.

Except on Saturday afternoons when Milton Cross broadcast “live from the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City.”

Suddenly, our innocent little radio that usually gave the weather report or followed the baseball game jumped to life.  Our home was filled with strange, guttural sounds that sailed from high to low in a musical cocophony that was hard to follow.  Opera!  And not just any opera, but German opera.

The music had a strange effect upon my mother.  Suddenly she was transported from suburban housewife to concert hall performer.  Center stage.  A single spotlight.  And there was no stopping my mother once she got started.  It was a complete concert from soprano to bass.  Not just singing in the shower, but windows wide open singing.  Our peaceful neighborhood with leafy canopy of oaks on hushed streets echoed with Mozart and Weber, Strauss and Wagner.

An opera diva lived amongst us.   On Saturday afternoons.

Make your own opertic cocophony today!