No good turned on

words and art by Telegraphy

You come home to it, go to bed with it, wake up with it, you swear damnation to it. It's in your bedroom, living room, kitchen, and some even have it in their bathroom. No, as much as I like it to be ,it isn't a pet marsupial, although some of use sometime treat it like one, coddling and giving it plenty of attention. No, it's your television...Ah, errr... Boob tube, the telly, idiot box, receiver, or my personal favorite, "The Baby-Sitter".

We get our news from it, which is sad when you really think about it, because news outlets on television are only there to do one thing - MAKE MONEY OFF OF YOU ! We also get our weather from it as well. On cable, a viewer can watch "The Weather Channel" a 24 hour channel dedicated to giving you the latest current weather related programing. Just think about how your grandparents survived without "The Weather Channel". Not having a clue of the inconvenience that our generation goes through having to suffer though 10 minutes of endless commercial advertisements about incontinence products only to view 10 seconds of a computer generated weather map ( for all we know made by a out-sourced Indian metrology grad making $1 per hour), and then having to rush out the door to head off too our unsecured jobs only to see it disappear in the near future. Haaa..sorry folks for going a bit off coarse, I hate my job.

We get allot of helpful information from the tube but at the same time there is a equal amount of harmfully information (just watch MTV). Even though I did grow up in the "Where's my MTV" generation, age has caught up with my sense of youthfulness rebellion (like a 80 year old Eminem stuck in a nursing home on Detroit's east side, raping on his death bed about impregnating the woman care givers). Staying away a moment from the news side of information, because we all know "The news is in the eye of the news agency's news director" and not the beholder. Helpful information can be anywhere on TV, like how to redirect your girlfriends attention else where, so you can slip silently into the hot tube with some trashy lady you picked up at the club. Opps, sorry I've been watch'en Jersey Shore again on MTV. But if you are into that, then I guess it could be considered valuable information.

Take for instance local happenings at city hall. Local access channels are great ways to see your local government in action. Yes, grab a bag of chips and a cold beer and start cheering or sneering at your favorite all star commissioners, board members or majors. If we had any sense, we as a nation would conjure up the same feelings toward our own local civic bodys as does any dedicated Monday night foot ball fan. That really wouldn't make sence, right?. Who would want to spend their youthful days eyewitnessing too governments dry processes, other then a reproachable WWII veterans whose rear-end firmly planted in ones easy chair?

One telecast of a N.F.L. game has more financial backing then all of the local access programs in America combined. I for one being the self-proclaimed "school yard loser" never was into popular sports, I was more interested in more important subject matter......eeehum, again I apologize for taking you off onto that tangent of shamefully useless childhood memories. The point I'm attempting to make is that we as a society are more interested in seeing multi-million dollar a year sports players give chase to a pig skin, puck..........ball...........ahh, err chasing an idea? Yes thats right, an idea of having a dream become a reallity, by joining a ball club and earning hugh sums of money. O.K. back to the point, instead of watching sports, watch something that directly effects your environment. And question your self and other's about how these effects could be rectified.

Whats on T.V.? Nothings on, is what a Madlock Mysteries watching elderly person would say if asked, even though they have a premium cable T.V. package with over 400 channels. We've grown so inundated with the idea of having most of everything in the world at our remote controlling arthritic finger tips, that we gradually plain away our amusement to the point where acts of taboo and debauchery on T.V. will only stimulate that constantly shrinking sense.

This situation I like to call the "I don't know what I want, but I know I want it now!" syndrome. But this is America, where we have the choice of having many choice's. Heck, do you know how many different brands and styles of toilet paper there is in the average super-market here in America? People in third world countries would be more then happy to have any toilet paper at all. To much choice can make a greedy green eyed monster out of any parsimonious person. So cut the cable and reenlist local. There's certainly more then enough programing to my liking on my local PBS station and other local stations.

"Can't you kids just leave me alone". Parents, has this ever happened to you. You come home from a long hard day at work, looking forward to a restful evening sitting in your favorite chair reading the paper and smoking your pipe (what ever kind of tobacco it's used for). And then those pesky kids of yours completely ruin your evening. Little Johnny needs help with his class science project while Susey needs to use the phone to talk to her girlfriend. OH NO! What is a parent to do? The answer to that is to use a device that parents, for generations, have been using to divert the attention of any young and easily manipulated mind. IT'S TELEVISION. Yes television the incredible device that does the thinking for. No longer do you have to teach your kids how conduct them self in public. Just plug the "T.V." into any standard wall outlet, and then select the desired channel for maximum behavioral modification. For adult problem solving technics, tune your "T.V." too the Fox News channel. For teenage etiquette training, tune too MTV. Wow I can't believe it, my kids are so quite and contempt when ever I'm home from work. Not sure how they act the rest of the time but what do I care I'm busy at work. They sit in front of the T.V. for hours at a time with their wide open eyes. They leave me alone to read and smoke, heck they don't even say a word to me any more. THANKS T.V.

The Exclusive Live In Detroit

T-max 100 f=5.6 at 1/125 sec

I was driving around Temple and Woodward on Detroit's west-side for (no, not for that; you have a dirty mind) any abandon buildings where I can get lost in. This old and for the most part, abandon neighborhood is home to a teaming community of the homeless and harlotry. Driving up and down the various side streets with the abandon high rises buildings housing only the displaced, I suddenly stumbled across a homeless gentleman relaxing on a unique park bench. He looked as if he was taking in all of the sites and sounds of this exclusive lo-cal just on the outskirts of midtown Detroit. I drove at a slow but steady pace down the pothole ridden narrow road where the distinguish observer was positioned. Gingerly rolling down my window, I poked my Canon FT QL 35mm SLR out the side window. I took a shot of this curious socialite only to have the squire of the outdoor davenport gesture to me of a fine job done, in his own way, with his finger of coarse.
This photo captures the true sense of what it's like to live in a tough city such as ours. But does it really have to be this way?

2011 Ann Arbor Hash Bash

2011 Ann Arbor Hash Bash

words and photo by: Telegraphy

On the morning of Saturday April 2, 2011 I headed down to Ann Arbor, MI, a large college town thats home to a little known school of higher education. You might of heard of it. Its the University of Michigan, better known for it's now second rate football team U of M, bio-tech research, statistical analyst studies of everything from house hold social economic impact in the nation, too, how many words a gossipy 16 year old can spew out in a twelve hour period.

But I didn't travel 50 miles (on my day off work) from my home on the east side of Detroit just to hob-knob with college jocks and calculator button pushing nerds. No, I came here on this cold
overcast spring morning to experience for the first time what it's like to hang out with a bunch of twenty-something stoner's. The smoking kind, the ones your parents told you about. And to get a contact buzz......... yea, O.K. moving along here .

You see Ann Arbor and the University of Michigan has been host to the Hash Bash for the past forty years. It could be concidered Michigan's only public marijuana sit in rally/protest. This event affectionately named the Ann Arbor Hash Bash happens on the first Saturday of April on the campus of U of M, rain or shine. People from all walks of life gather here to mingle and publicly smoke weed, no matter what the legal recourse is.

After driving forty-five minutes to get to this event of forbidden acts, I became victorious finding a parking spot in a college town of no parking spots. As I stepped foot on the campus and having no idea where the rally is to take place, I began looking around for stoner's and hipsters. Knowing all to well that where there's a group of people looking the part; thats where the action is going to be. After walking around the campus and seeing nothing but the usual stereo typical studious student types, I finally spotted a small group of maybe two-hundred or so, all hanging around the front stairways of a unknown to me "old building or lecture hall". "Ahh", I confidently assured my self, "this must be the place" "if this isn't the rally, I'm going home to go back to bed only to wake up to look at myself in the bathroom mirror overwhelmingly disappointed that I didn't get my information right". You can tell that this happend to me before. "It is the place, look theres a stoner and standing next to him writing out a ticket is one of Ann Arbors finest", again assuring myself as I strolled down the walk way along side of the lecture hall.

I inquisitivly made my way to the front lawn where all the action was. At 11:45 a.m. just before the rally was to begin at 12 noon, I saw many interesting people, mostly colorful hippies artfully pounding on their bongos and the twentysomthing college partiers that are only there to do one thing. Smoke dope and pick up girls. Others were like me, curious individuals that are not there to smoke but who is there to watch.

As 12 noon came around the crowd all of sudden doubled and then tripled. It's as though everyone was summonsed by some unheard whaling call, like a call to prayer, but this was not a prayer service it was a mass public bake session. The air suddenly became saturated with the familiar intoxicating aroma of weed, probably all different strains of all "kind"(no pun intended folks). Groups to the left of me, to the right, in front, in back were all lighting up joints, bowls, blunts and bongs you name it, every type of weed dispensary apparatus was being used. The event organizers voice came blaring through the pro-sound speakers that looked like they were loaned by a local art-rock band for this event. He starts off with a simple disclaimer,"even though you are on campus property it is considered to be public property, so if you plan on smoking be prepared to be ticketed for anything below an ounce". After that "required" declaimer, the M.C. commenced to warming up the crowd of what seemed to be thousands of smoking ralliers by directing them to turn too one another and just say "HI!!".

As the rally built up so did to fog of pot smoke above the crowd. The lite winds for that day slowly carried away the billowing exhaled smoke south-wared. I can picture a farmer in Ohio ingesting all of that THC goodness while working his field.

Walking around the outer skirts of the crowd I saw more illicit drug use. It became clear to me like a alcoholic who (at some point in their life) experiences a moment of clarity. I notice that the crowd started to become interested in what was happening in front of them on the steppes of this old lecture hall and not on their joint rolling technique. In other words this rally or gathering wasn't about stoner's coming together just to openly smoke, no, it was more then that. It was transforming into a public awareness forum. A political march about the right to smoke if you will.

Plenty of guessed speakers took the mic like a group of American business men at a Chinese sushi bar. Notable ones were (undeclared) New Mexico Governor Gary Johnson, who preached about marijuana legalization, green party speaker Matthew Abel, and of course one of the original Hash Bash organizers and world renown poet John Sinclair.

At this point in the rally yours truly had to depart this seen of excessive dipsomania because the parking meter (which by the way was fed $1.50 for one hour) was beyond it's time limit. And so I am also beyond my limited literary know how, so thanks for reading.

Roman: to much, with to little

Words and photo by Telegraphy

A curious looking thirty-something man walks around a children's model train set in a cold dimly lit basement of a 19th century farm house on Detroit's east side. Holding a cigarette in one hand, elbow rested on his hip, and music blaring from the old 1970's stereo resting on a home made shelf above the now decommissioned washer. He pulls a model train by hand along the winding but for the must part straight railroad track." You know this is a GTW record" saying just before taking a slug out of a bottle of Jack Daniels, (GTW pertaining to the railroad train set's name which stands for Grand Trunk Corporation) "This freight has 20 cars and two locomotives, that's a record. It took me all afternoon to put this one together".
This is Roman Sudney, a dark haired single man who's living in this old farm house with his aunt. He's a lawn maintenance technician in the summer time but during the long winter months he's a drinking, pot smoking, basement train set hermit. When asked where he spends most of his time, he takes another swig from the bottle and says, "I spend most of my time here in the basement, setting up trains while I drink and smoke weed". To some people Roman comes off as a wired loner, but if you dig a little bit deeper you will find that he is something more. A renaissance man or maybe a guy that's on a mission. A mission to build the biggest, baddest micro sized logistics corporation on rails. In other words a train company in his basement.

You see, Romans train set has come a long way since he first moved in to his aunt's house back in 2005. "The last place I had was in the basement of an old flat in the cabbage patch. I had no place to put up a train set." The Cabbage patch is an affectionate name given to a small community in Grosse Pointe, a suburb of Detroit, MI.
Waking around this small basement (which by the way isn't really considered a basement, at least not to any city house inspector) is quite difficult if you're a professional basket ball player. That's because it's only five and a half foot tall. So when you move around, you have to dodge the rafters above without hitting your head. You see this basement is actually called a "Michigan cellar" or a "half basement". Call it what you want, it's cold, dark, it's small and very creepy looking. "Oh I got used to it. I know exactly where every rafter is" Roman says while carefully packing a one hitter full of weed

Taking a hit out of the one hitter behind his train set, I notice all of rail yard paper paraphernalia hang by thumb tacks on some rafters above (bad car orders, freight manifest and others). All of these cards Roman picked up at one of the local train yards, as evident of the train companies insignia on then. Roman with blood shot baked eyes says while pointing to one freight manifest card "You see I make up a train just like they do in a real train yard. I also use this bad car forms when one of my rail cars have a problem". Just like a real train company would do in real life. Only he's not moving cars from Chrysler or Ford motor company, or moving grain across the country, or hulling scrape iron from Detroit to a metal refinery somewhere in Pennsylvania. No, he's moving cigarette ashes from his ash tray or small parts from a cigarette lighter. And yes, sometimes a bag of weed.

His train set will not win any awards for cleanliness nor will it pass any industry standard exam. It isn't what you call a "pretty" model train set. Looking around one will find many piles of "scale model junk" lying around. A pile of old used cigarette lighter parts, a collection of warn out rail car trunks (the wheels of rail cars), and a compilation of marijuana beaners. One gets the sense that his not to concerned for tidiness. Others in this hobby will go out of their way to make a train display look like, well a display. Clean and almost life like. When was the last time you saw a train set look dirty and grimmey, just like a train yard in real life? Though there are some patches of serenity on Roman's train set. The small town for an example which consist of a row of merchant buildings, two houses with lush green lawns, a rail road station, and two big factories. That's it. No mountains, no enchanted forests, and no scenic land scapes. Just scale model dirt, grime, and rust. It's as if Roman is mimicking the true landscape of Detroit, rust and all

He's a very intelligent man, but tell that to someone that doesn't know him personally. Ask him about any train locomotive and he will give you all of the specifics about it you never knew existed. Obscure train companies, locomotive performance specs, who owns what part of a rail line, if it's anything to do with trains he knows it. Want to know how to drive a multi-ton locomotive? Roman will tell you how. And that comes from first hand knowledge. You see at age fourteen, Roman actually drove one. Thumbing through a stack of old color film photos, he says in a vigorous excited voice "I was invited by the yard master at the Ferdale/Motern yard up aboard their GP35 locomotive, the engineer was so impressed with my knowledge of the control panel that he let me drive the dam thing for a quarter mile" all the while pointing to a old photo of him driving one for evidence. Keeping up on the ever changing world of the train bizz, he subscribes to various train industry publications where he'll go through and soak up any and everything technical, like a computer hacker on LSD. Train spotting is another way for him to flecks his train knowledge mussels. "I'll go to train hot spots when ever I get the chance" he says as his eyes are glued to the small monitor screen on his cheap digital camera. Thumbing through various video files on his camera of recent trains he's video tape, he shows one. "This is one I shot in Delray, a train hot spot in southwest Detroit. I waited there for forty-five minutes to cache this one. It's a BN SD-45 hulling coal to Zug Island" he says in a muffled voice with a cigarette flopping on the side of his lips.

He presents him self to the world in his own way. Dresses in the latest Roman fashion, which to say is his own style. The character of his train set parallels his unique sense of grooming, spars at best. A friendly person but almost elusive. Questionable but completely sane. A simple man but complex in his own actions. "I always thought that I wanted a girlfriend" contemplating his life as he changes the song on his ipod that he rigged himself to the 1970's stereo system. "But then, what lady could be strong enough to handle me". Deep down inside one sees that the Roman is a special person. A person filled with innocence's, like some who's been shielded from the evil things that run ramped in today's society. Whether you think he's to smart or to dumb, one gains after meeting him a sense that he is Roman in his own way and that's all you need to know.

So we started off the year where we left off at the closure of our parent netlabel metal-oxide-malfunction in January of this year. From that time I have released four E.P.'s or L.P.'s. Have no time or space to blog about those releases so if your interested pleases visit my new and improved netlabel ionosonde recordings. So without farther a'due, here is the fourth release of ionosonde recordings entitled "Four Pieces For A Lonely Walk". By who else? Yea, I thought so: Telegraphy.