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Sunday Soul – Fear’s Inevitable Demise

Year 11 – Playlist 35/52 – Art, Essay and music for the week of December 14th 2014

Once upon a time there was a lovely little boy who took everything much too seriously. He was just a little tiny boy, but he wore a waistcoat, and a suit, and kept his hair groomed much the way any serious student of philosophy or calculus might keep it. He wasn’t terribly unusual. This little boy ate, slept, wandered about looking at things, and especially enjoyed hiding behind doors in order to jump out and shout “boo!” at anyone who might happen to find their way into the room. This last trick usually produced hilarity, but once in a while it made old ladies drop things and old men faint. These were the real pay off. That was even better than laughing it up with his mother.

One day after a particularly difficult set of maths, the little boy explained that he was going out for some air to clear his head. He was just about out the door when his mother picked him up by his yellow rain coat and let him know it was nearly 9 o’clock and not only was it past his bed time, but that it was raining outside and there wasn’t going to be any negotiation tonight. So off to bed he went. About twenty minutes later the little boy slipped out of his pajamas, and back into his rain slicker and this time without any announcement slipped out the door and wanderd out into the night.

About forty five minutes later the little boy realized that he was passing his house again. He’d suspected as much a while back, but this time he was sure of it. He peered toward the bungalow and craned his neck, tilting his head a little to the side to be sure. It was his residence. There was no doubt about it. Scanning the entirety of the street the little boy wondered how it was possible that if he’d been gone on a walk for what felt like a week that he would continue to pass the very house that he lived in repeatedly. He wasn’t five years old yet, but he was sharp enough to know he hadn’t walked all the way around the world three times yet, so what was happening?

Just then a car drove past up in front of him. Just ahead at the end of the street. Again the little boy craned his neck and squinted his eyes and then pulled a hand out of his yellow raincoat pocket and scratched the back of his head. “Oh I get it” he said softly. He’d been walking the entire circumference of the cul de sac he lived on. So he was walking in a circle. This explained a lot, and the little boy had an idea. There was a chance, based on the car that drove past, that there was more to this steet than he’d previously suspected. Holding dear in his heart and close to his lips the old adage of Pascal’s “If there are not infinite chances of losing compared to winning, do not hesitate. Stake it all. You’re obliged to play, so renounce reason if you value your life.” the little boy glanced back at the bungalow where he’d whiled away his wonderful life up until this point and then headed for the corner.

The sidewalk turned into what appeared to be a country road. Lined with trees that smelled like Christmas and pretty red fowers which he was pretty sure were poison. He wondered about poisonous flowers. “Who would even eat a flower that wasn’t poisonous?” He imagined one of the big red blossoms in his mouth and it made him laugh. After a while the road became a trail and the trail headed down the other side of the hill the little boy had been trudging up all night. As he descended the valley into the other side he began to hear the sound of wailing. The trail was crowded on both sides by slender trees, and between the trees were curious figures. Beautiful women, often wrapped in scarves and long capes flailing their hands in the air, looking up toward the sky and crying.

Finally there was a long, tall women wearing a chiffon salsa dress with an almost indecent slit up the side standing in the middle of the path. “Hello” said the boy, craning his neck again, hoping for a better look at this very fancy woman. “Hmff” Said the woman, and then craned her neck back at the boy.

“Say, can you tell me why all these women are out here in the woods?”
“Why do you think that we are here?” Asked the woman. She said it up to the sky, so the boy looked up too, to be sure she was talking to him.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know lady. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“You’re a very rude little thing aren’t you?”
“Sorry.”
“Well you should be. Manners are very important in a man. Nobody has manners anymore.”
“Say, would you like me to hide behind one of these trees and try and scare you?”
The woman turned her head and peered deeply into the little boy “What?”
“Awh, nevermind.” And off he went, right through the woman’s legs and down the trail lined with trees and women wrapped in scarves and capes.
“For your information” shouted the woman as the little boy began to get some distance. “We are weeping for all that we have lost.”
The little boy wondered what they might have lost, and why she hadn’t told him so before. So he said to his feet “I’da helped you look for it.”

Up ahead the little boy heard something that sounded like tiny laughing. It sort of started up and then stopped, and then started up again and then stopped again. He liked it, so he smiled a little at first, and eventually started to chuckle. His laughter wasn’t particularly big, so it sounded a little bit like tiny laughing too. So he was walking along noticing that the sun was starting to rise and chuckling to himself when he found himself confronted with two very beautiful foxes. They were giggling and twitching and jumping up and down.

“Hello” Said the little boy.
“We did it!” said the foxes. “We did it, we did it; we did it!” And then they hugged each other and burst back out laughing.
“What did you do?” Asked the little boy.
“We killed her!” Said the first fox, who was only wearing a sheer white scarf.
“We killed her! She’s dead.” Said the second fox who wasn’t wearing anything at all.
“Who did you kill?” Asked the little boy seriously.
The foxes sniffed the air, and looked at each other quickly and then looked back at the boy and said “Fear!” at the exact same time.

Well now the boy was taken aback a bit. He wasn’t very experienced with things in the real world, but he had read enough books to know that murder was always wrong. But these strange creatures were very pleased. So there must be something more to the story than met the eye. He put his hand up to his mouth as if to let the foxes know he was taking a more serious attitude to this affair than they seemed to be, and said “What did she do to deserve that?”

The foxes laughed and laughed, hugged each other, sniffed the air and scattered. The little boy was amused with thier darting and sniffing. He had always loved foxes, and these two were no exceptions. He loved them immediately. But now they were gone. He hadn’t quite worked out what the world might be like without fear in it when he came upon a pair of long, knobby legs sticking out of the bottom of a tree. They were right there in front of him, just across from the huge rose bush, just as plain as the nose on his face.

“That must be fear” He said solemly. “Poor fear.” And he walked over to the legs to get a closer look at what a posthumous fear might look like. They were sort of hungry looking legs, not lovely at all and they were wearing saddle shoes. The little boy had had a pair of saddle shoes before. He threw them into the swimming pool of a Howard Johnson’s motor lodge because they made his feet all sweaty and he didn’t like them. He wondered if Fear’s feet would do much sweating now that she was dead.

Just then one of Fear’s legs twiched. The little boy squinted his eyes to be sure he wasn’t imagining things. Then a hand very casually came out of the tree branches and scrached at one the knoby knees. Not a casual scratch, but a real good one, and then slipped back into the tree.

“Fear?” Asked the little boy carefully.
There was no answer.
“Excuse me Fear?” Asked the boy again.
Still no answer.
“I know you’re not dead. I saw you scrach yourself.”
“Shhhh” Said the legs. “I’m supposed to be dead.”
“Oh I get it!” Said the little boy joyfully. He liked to play dead, and thought he might join in the fun.
“Shhhh” Said the legs. “Shut up. I don’t want to hurt the fox’s feelings. They think I’m dead and they’re really happy about it. So I’m just gonna lay around here for a while until they go to sleep.”
“Can I lay down with you?”
“Did the Foxes try to kill you?”
“Who me? Oh heck no. They were ever so nice to me.”
“Well then I think you better get out of here.”

The little boy walked away from the pretend dead legs of fear and rounded the rose bushes and stared up into a glorious sunrise. The rain had stopped, and it looked like it was going to be an absolutely wonderful day.

Thank you for listening. See you next week.
Love,
Sunshine

Here is the track listing for Sunday Soul: Fear’s Inevitable Demise

1. Lit – Kiasmos
2. in a state (DFA remix) – Unkle
3. Hippie Priest Bum Out – LCD Soundsystem
4. Make You Mine – Fear Of Theydon Dub – Incarnations
5. Nightcall – Breakbot Remix – Kavinsky
6. Still Going Theme – Still Going
7. Thrown – Kiasmos
8. U Can Dance – Carl Craig Remix V.1 – DJ Hell
9. I Don’t Know – Michael Ashe
10. Tides – Chant Mix – Beanfield
11. Black Moon – Force Of Nature
12. Sound In A Dark Room – Telefon Tel Aviv
13. Innerfearence – Chateau Flight Remix – Spectral Empire
14. Desert Wind (El Ahram Mix) – Banco De Gaia
15. Godet – Gui Boratto
16. Heroes – David Bowie
17. Sunday Soul – Program ID
18. Across The Universe – Fiona Apple
19. Sunday Soul – Program ID

Year 11 – Playlist 35|52
14 December 2014
Total Running Time: 01 Hours 59 Minutes

Buy this music if you love it. Buy it on vinyl. Play it loud. I am curating something personal for the people I love who take the time to listen. If you have feelings and would like to be stricken from the record here, please let me know and I’d be glad to never play your music here again. I’ve been mad about love before, and I totally understand.

May the stars above you shimmer and shine, guiding your heart always, all of the time. May they guide you sweetly, all the way home. And may all your sundays have soul.