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 Mythville MetaMedia's Profile |
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| Age: | 48 years old |
| Sex: | Male |
| Location: | Durango, Colorado |
| Country: |  United States |
| Height: | 0' 0" |
| Zodiac: |  Capricorn (Dec 22- Jan 19) |
| Last Login: | Apr 20, 2008 (177 days back) |
About Me |
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Ipswich at War A few days after Sept. 11, 2001, poet and essayist Douglas McDaniel moved to Ipswich, on the North Shore of Massachusetts. A collection of poems from that period of fear and anxiety, as well as the polemic essay, "Media Arts and War." The Kachina's Son Poems about the Four Corners area written while author Douglas McDaniel was living in Telluride, Colorado. Read more 23 Roads to Mythville The combined three books of "The Mythville Trilogy" in the one book, an apocalyptic journey across America and meditation on the imposition of order in space, both cyber and dirt real. By experiential author Douglas McDaniel, who explores the mysteries of American networked life ... Read more William Blake in Cyberspace Experiential author Douglas McDaniel takes on the visionary art and poetry of William Blake, comparing an otherworldly worldview to that revolutionary, romantic era to our own wild, wired, mythic world. Read more Visit my bookstore to learn more http://www.lulu.com/mythville Join the "Bards of Mythville" for spoken word events the first Wednesday of every month, from 6-8 p.m., at Between the Covers Bookstore in Telluride, Colorado. Get the latest book by Douglas McDaniel Many Moons to Mythville Poetry written during a 10-year span of criss-crossing America in a roving-eye view of the turn-of-the-century landscape of Mythville, or, as the author puts it: "It's all a bunch of Mythville." With work from four separate books by Arizona-based author and poet Douglas McDaniel, the bard-inspired voices of Milton, Blake and Yeats, as well as the saturnine streak of early beat poesy, ring through this collection of poems and essays. From the southwestern deserts to the Atlantic and Pacific Coasts, "Many Moons to Mythville" is a foot-to-the-floor blast through the mythical roads of American life. Read more “Cool, modern beat poetry/prose the likes of which would make Kerouac and Burroughs proud. Douglas McDaniel's images make me want hop in my car and take a road trip to some mythical psychedelic diner in a lonely Southwestern town. ‘West Coast Storm Warning’ and ‘What Would Water Do’ are particularly effective poems.” --Phillip Hardy, author of “Kingdom of the Hollow: The Story of the Hatfields and McCoys” The Road to Mythville A collection of poems on the new millennium in America, drawing from a decade of bouncing across the country as a journalist and Kerouac-style poet, from the Southwestern deserts to the shores of New England and back again. Read more One Quarter Now, One-Click Wars to Come A collection of essays on the media arts during a time of war, the book looks at everything from cyberwar to video games, as well as technology and violence in the new century. Read more Angel of the Avenues Includes the experiential essay, "Time Enough for Smoke," and new poems written during the long hot 2004 election season in the Southwestern United States by Douglas McDaniel.. Read more Ipswich at War A few days after Sept. 11, 2001, poet and essayist Douglas McDaniel moved to Ipswich, on the North Shore of Massachusetts. A collection of poems from that period of fear and anxiety, as well as the polemic essay, "Media Arts and War." Read more Glasnost Lost As an act of defiance after the botched election of 2000, experiential author launched himself into a journey into the underworld of American life, or, what he calls: The Science of Descent. Read more |
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My Interests |
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| Note: Here's a couple from ANGEL OF THE AVENUES, By Doug McDaniel MILTON MORNING SONG Celestial heavenly lights blinking At dawn over Camelback Mountain. The rose is left in view, rosy And true. The sky is a blue frame For madness or his nameless name. Milton wrote, he choked and smoked: The mind is its own place, and in itself, Can make heaven a hell, A hell of heaven. But if this the Void, it..s a Void of truth. The stirs of green cirrus streaks In the cloud, the chair-back Alignment of Venus and Mars, The waning dusty moon; All simple proof there..s no real Distance between me And unknowable you. Silhouette of a Praying Monk, I smolder and move to get a better view, lay my shitty pocket things into a fire pit and sit on a merry temporary throne. Light up. Listen to a raven..s haunting call, The trickling of cool waters running Beneath the surface of the desert: O Milton, poor bastard, you only Had it half right. Man, his heart; The only Void in view. I climb this tree, O Bard, And sing a sad song for thee: Thy sun, thy surface, thy furnace. THE SECOND ECLIPSE I wept about what I feared, Feared what she wept, Wrote up a list of timid sorrows And faults, fell dead, laying awake, Trying it out in wordless whispers Into a mirror: Pride, hypocrisy, manic Moods and shame; finally fell asleep, A fuel-stained moment of empty bliss. She pegged her donkey to a target And sealed it with a kiss. Told me I had to wait till the second eclipse. I turned a half-moon, mooned white my ass, Unbuttoning my Levi mask of blue ash, Went back to my puny dry barrio abode, Listened to the sweet Popsicle truck bells And faced a loaded lighter. Couldn’t keep still. Her delicate rebirth. My cold season. My prayer, a whisper of self-made ritual, My salty Hohokam tongue licking Small circles around The anatomy of love. You crave my body, I crave you, When moonlight passes cool. I live in terror and wonder Of a woman’s churning bones. Listening to music So loud it’s not true. I could go deaf Trying not to telephone you. THINGS I DIDN'T Do THIS YEAR Drove down the highway in spring in a wannabe Corvette. Thinking of you: As always. As in always. You know, in Cataract Canyon these days the runoff will put hair on your ass, ice cold waters running fast, hooked on the phone, talking to you. I had a bill for seventeen million dollars that I outright refused to pay. Earlier, the archons of paradise flew me in for free. I asked again, and they said, "no." Not this year, not even the next. So I ran to kill this thing inside, crushed nicotine cigarettes beneath my feet. I burned one and I thought of Atlanta, burning. I won't be running like Sherman through the South. I won't even be near there, I promise you, no doubt. Got a memo from Nantucket. Knew a woman there who liked to ... Then the mail pile fell and the words scattered in the wind, convenience man came in, said it was the air-conditioning. Still couldn't fix that thing and tomorrow it's goin' to roar. Had an image of a pretty girl and I waited by the door. Put the Blasters on the stereo, buck'n'bronco rock'n'roll. Felt your touch in the rhythm, sweet pie, blue blue eyes. There's a beach house near Portsmouth. Won't be there. Made plans for a Christmas party on a mountaintop, another bottle of dreams in black light. BARRIO FIRE KISS Don't have much time to smoke, damn, I line up the little critters in a row upon the ashtray, unfinished bizness. And unfinished is as business does and does not. Fear of failure and whatnot. What I do know, well, the teen Latinos line up in the stairwells here, kissing up a firestorm. Time enough to swell in the emotions stirring in your sudden disappearance: O gawd, how many cassette recordings you must inspire. O gawd, that hope you might listen to this song or that, so you feel what we all end up feeling. Longing along, leaving it alone. A kiss under a streetlight, a wave goodbye. I guess where there's fire, there's hope. I don't have time to smoke. DA VINCI BLUES Consider the totality of stress on the renaissance man. Hustlin' to & fro', talkin' wings off birds, puttin' eyeballs on kites, makin' list of daemons. Start one thing no sooner you're burning the next green branch, jugglin' chaos and oozing blood to congeal the form, breakin' time's inscrutable pane a' glass & gettin' no fuckin' sleep in the process. There are days when ideas rise in the sequence of smoke holes to the ceiling, and you gasp for air, allowing the muse to take form. There is no sex life, nada, no time for introspection, only invention and monk's tea, as if mere air were a seven-course meal before you turn to bed to weep. TRANSMUTATION Turn the bad into good. Glass into sand. The agent is the pulverizer. Beat up the plastic. Improve the soul. Trauma separator. Matter turning to smoke. Three moon shots separatin' nine stages to nirvana, seven steps to satan or Sarah. Think of performance art and persecution as one. Fear nothing and nothingness will run. Embrace everything, everything will come. Leave this place clean as when you came. Reflective sand, driveways paved with Cibola gold, mustang mosaic, round Indian shield... creativity expands, censor's cage contracts, the tao of two is whole. High performance standards increase the odds of survival. O protected one, carry us, to a higher plane. While it may not be apparent, everything is in order. Mobius strip, everything eternal, ebbs out, then in, then out again, the feedback loops gain force or devour, depending upon the potency--or, poison, of the form. Interfere, as little as possible. Live in the present. Study the past. Know the future, nature, soul fire, is a never ending cycle. Real time is irrelevant. Strip mine Mobius: Reduce, solve, practice what is preached. Wear often, a plastic pop bottle hat, corrugated cardboard shirt, shoes and old rubber tires, for a head like an alien. Who says Augustus would never amount to anything? Douglas McDaniel is publisher of Mythville.com. In past lives, he has served as editor for such national magazines as the Robb Report, Access Internet Magazine and The Diamond, an official publication for Major League Baseball. His literary efforts includes several books of poetry, including “The Road to Mythville,” which is available at iUniverse.com, “Ipswich at War,” and the “The Kachina’s Son.” His poetry has been published in a number of baseball literary journals, including “Spitball,” as well as such Web sites as Troikamagazine.com. Several poems can also be found in an anthology, “Baseball and the Literary Life,” put out by Birch Brook Press, New York. “Human Search Engine,” part of the series that began at Disinfo.com and G21.net as the Mythville Project, is the third book in a series that also begins with “The Bog In the Hole Where the Animals Fell,” leads to "Godz, Cars & Cannon," then, "Human Search Engine" and "William Blake in Cyberspace," and ends with the most recently released, “Glasnost Lost.” The first three works of what Mr. McDaniel calls “speculative non-fiction” are also compiled in a single book: "23 Roads to Mythville." In 2006, he released two new books, "One Quarter Now, One-Click Wars to Come," which is a collection his most recent essays on contemporary culture, and a new book of poetry loosely based on his experience with pedestrian lifestyle in automobile-mad Phoenix, Arizona, "Angel of the Avenues." McDaniel is currently lives in Telluride, Colorado, as a self-publshed, and, of course, radical bookseller.For more info see: Mythinformation Radio Free Arizona O.-Links: Psychic Weather Report Avatars R Us Submit Your Poems The Bard of Mythville New Media Shredder Willy B in Cyber S Mythville on the Google Stretch Come, See Jerusalem Enviro Digita Radio Free Arizona at G21.net Automous Author Last Water |
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I'd like to meet:Salman Rushdie, Jesus, Kurt Vonnegut (too late, damn), Jesus, George Bush II (if only because he talks to God and I have a few questions), Jesus, Jesus Christ. and, hmmm, former members of the Jesus & Mary Chain ... let me think .... hmmm .... |
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Music: |
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Movies:My life is very much like one |
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Television:Don't have one, thanks |
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Books:One Quarter Now, One-Click Wars to ComeA collection of essays on the media arts during a time of war, the book looks at everything from cyberwar to video games, as well as technology and violence in the new century. Read more Telluride Sang Rael Poems written within the vortex of Telluride, Colorado, an eagle's nest for all kinds of weird countercultural activity that's tucked away at 8,600 feet above sea level in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado, in this case poetry and essays by Douglas McDaniel, author of "Ipswich at War" and "William Blake in Cyberspace." An experiential launch into the Coloradan ghost town vibe, starting with a poem about "Alta," site of the first use of cross-current electricity in North America; or "Explanation of Arizona," which looks at the southwest from the mythical heights of the Ralph Lauren Ranch. Read more Mythville: One Godz, Cars & Cannon Experiential author Douglas McDaniel launches himself into a real-life search for the so-called Da Vinci code, driving into the networked thickets of American life, looking for signs of myth and romance in the age of automotive machines. Read more Mythville: Dos Human Search Engine The journey continues as the quest for myth in an age of information overload leads to online life as an editor for Access Internet Magazine. A story about all human search engines as they chase the ghost in the machine. Read more Mythville: Tres William Blake in Cyberspace Experiential author Douglas McDaniel takes on the visionary art and poetry of William Blake, comparing an otherworldly worldview to that revolutionary, romantic era to our own wild, wired, mythic world. Read more |
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Heroes: |
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My Background and Lifestyle |
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| MaritalStatus: | Single |
| Children: | Proud parent |
| Education: | College graduate |
| Occupation: | Journalist |
My Blog |
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Another one from "Ipswich at War" |
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| From "Ipswich at War," by Douglas McDaniel, available at Lulu.comWELLINGTON STATION I saw you acrossthe commuter aisle twitching and huffing at Wellington Station.I, too, am a loser in the war. I layd... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Fri, 04 Apr 2008 08:27:00 PST |
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"The Blue Black Raven Gasped in the Clouds" |
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| THE KACHINA’S SONThe gravity of the red sun in Navajoland,impatient in the evening sky, held me downto sixty-five miles per hour. The darkness cameas the mesas turned to introversion, purple sha... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Fri, 04 Apr 2008 07:43:00 PST |
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Words for Music: Agro Daddies |
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| Storms Across AmericaSee the Madonna Disneylandkeen into the seaof the deep as hailstonesring white pins honed from Hawaiiand a tide of low pressurerounds up upon the shoreof the Forty-Fifth parallel,... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Tue, 25 Mar 2008 04:05:00 PST |
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My Cup of Coffee In the Majors |
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| By Douglas McDanielMythville MetaMedia The ball field is immaculate but empty. The contrast of the dirt infield and well-tempered green grass forming the diamond call out: the lost echoes of memor... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Mon, 24 Mar 2008 09:11:00 PST |
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From "Ipswich at War": The Devil’s Footprint |
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| THE DEVIL’S FOOTPRINTI was at the fire moundlast night in Ipswich,and a man told mean interesting story therewhile we both watched membersof the Cape Anne Task Forceprepare for another raid.He s... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Sun, 23 Mar 2008 07:33:00 PST |
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Wire Fence |
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| From "Ipswich at War," by Douglas McDanielhttp://www.lulu.com/content/54464WIRE FENCEWet snow falls in clumpsOn a barbed wire fence;Eyes through mesh,A dream of democraciesCrushing grim,Grim in the th... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Sun, 23 Mar 2008 07:28:00 PST |
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The Time Capsule |
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| From "Ipswich at War," by Douglas McDanielhttp://www.lulu.com/content/54464THE TIME CAPSULEMy car is coveredIn autumn leavesStuck wet in the morning,Wind-plastered, reds, yellowsAnd faded brown bumper... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Sun, 23 Mar 2008 07:14:00 PST |
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Monarch Pass |
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| Monarch Pass Light was leaking a little bit each day. Autumn was a deer with headlightsin its eyes. A snowstorm was coming in from the north. On the streets of cow town the wind sent a chill to the he... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Sat, 22 Mar 2008 09:41:00 PST |
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The Kachina’s Son |
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| The Kachina’s Son The gravity of the red sun in Navajoland, impatient in the evening sky, held me down to sixty-five miles per hour. The darkness cameas the mesas turned to introversion, purple ... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Sat, 22 Mar 2008 08:58:00 PST |
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Is this city immune to war? |
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| Thoughts Written on a Canyon Map During a Coffee, Bidi and Piece of Some Kind of Prettily Made Bread While Gazing at a Hummer-Covered Parking Lot at a Gentrified Suburban Republican BistroI charted th... Posted by Mythville MetaMedia on Sat, 22 Mar 2008 08:33:00 PST |
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My Friends |
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KING YUNGGZ, Bowery Women, Cafe Nuba, Mony, Tucson Music Fans, Mike Maranhas, BF Deal Sampler Vol1, Spokane Events, Iraq for Sale, Tanya Lee Stone, Norbert Krueler, Caroline, Pandora Ink, The Artist Community, Son Solar, Morfiouz, The Lost Patrol, Nelson Literary Agency, Sue Anna Joe, The Welfare Poets' other page, Juxtapoz Magazine, Princess Snowflake, Andrea Gibson, Rafael Art, Books & Books, Jesus and His Flip Flops, Arrian, Rachel Resnick, The Freeway Blogger, A Bit of Zen, The Booksmith, NIKI KWIK, Greg, William Blake MySpace Music Page, Blues For America, Verless Doran, squidman, Selected Poems CD, Tali, Jonathan Standifird, bonniefoofooNSK, WalkaboutsVerse, Tilegoddess, Mary Dare, Planner Forthright (angel falling upward), ShotGun.Poetry, THE NEXT GENERATION WRITERS, Miyjoue, Kate Bush Tribute Page, Cafe Cultura, ~~MARIE~~, FloydFest, Mythville MetaMedia, Kathleen Pickering, Author, Ashley Kristine, ~M~ Legacy Writer, Rogue Muse, Colls Poetry&Prose, Lissa {Legacy Writer}, Kawehi, Legacy Writers of Harmony Pub, Trementatis, Poet Bar™ spittin fire in Maui, Hawaii!, Vivian Gale, Weber T., Linda, Elizabeth, Pamela, Grail Seekers, R.I.P. MOM. I'M MISSING YOU BADLY., Doc Huckster, Drew, hektor [L^ L], Littlebit, readergirlz, Law, Linda
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Tags |
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Mythville MetaMedia's profile has been tagged with the following keywords. Click a tag to search for profiles with the same tags. spoken word events, poesy ring, douglas mcdaniel, pacific coasts, southwestern deserts, many moons, telluride colorado, order in space, collection of poems, sept 11 2001, foot to the floor, poetry prose, beat poetry, roving eye, visionary art, mcdaniels, william blake, essayist, kerouac, bards |
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