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I'm Special Agent DJ Justice; Radio Host and Program for Netroots Radio.com; and I'm manning the dials, spinning the discs, warbling the woofers, putting a slip in your hip and a trip to your hop.
The playlist for Monday 14 April 14 9pm to Midnight Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans Frontieres
~~ "A Broken Piece of Ribbon" ~~
1 - The Smiths -- "I Started Something I Could Not Finish"
2 - The Replacements -- "Unsatisfied"
3 - Echo and The Bunnymen -- "Evergreen"
4 - The Psychedelic Furs -- "The Ghost In You"
5 - The Jam -- "Going Underground"
6 - Pet Shop Boys -- "West End Girls"
7 - Siouxsie and the Banshees -- "Christine"
8 - L7 -- "Andres"
Station Break
9 - The Stranglers -- "No More Heroes"
10 - U2 -- "Where The Streets Have No Name"
11 - Midnight Oil -- "Blue Sky Mine"
12 - Depeche Mode -- "Personal Jesus"
13 - The English Beat -- "Mirror In The Bathroom"
14 - The Specials -- "Ghost Town"
15 - The B-52's -- "Planet Claire"
16 - The Clash - "Police On My Back"
Station Break
17 - Tom Waits -- "16 Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six"
18 - Halfhead Special -- "Quiet Gun"
19 - The Sugarcubes -- "Cold Sweat"
20 - Band of Susans -- "The Last Temptation of Susan"
21 - Beck -- "Loser"
22 - Cake -- "Nugget"
23 - The White Stripes -- "Seven Nation Army"
24 - Chumbawamba -- "Jacob's Ladder"
25 - Porno For Pyros -- "Bali Eyes"
Station Break
26 - Nouvelle Vague -- "This Is Not A Love Song"
27 - De Phazz -- "Slums of Monte Carlo"
28 - Frances Livings -- "Candy's Caravan"
29 - Kate Bush -- "The Red Shoes"
30 - Massive Attack -- "Black Milk"
31 - Serge Gainsbourg -- "Ballade de Melody Nelson"
Station Break
32 - 13th Floor Elevators - "Thru The Rhythm"
33 - Tripswitch -- "Stereogram"
34 - Quantic -- "Westbound Train"
35 - Hidden Orchestra -- "Strange"
36 - The Sound Defects -- "Peace"
37 - Yo La Tengo - "Don't Have To Be So Sad"
Station Break
38 - Seu Jorge -- "Carolina"
39 - Nando Reis -- "Pra Voce Guardei O Amor"
40 - Zeca Baleiro -- "Telegrama"
41 - Vanessa da Mata -- "Boa Sorte"
42 - Bebel Gilberto -- "Aganju"
43 - Rosalia de Souza -- "Bossa 31"
Who luvs ya, baby?
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(12-String Ovation Balladeer Astoria, Oregon / copyright Justice Putnam)
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Someone buried red slippers under the floorboards
and the mice nested in them. The floors splintered no matter
how many cans of deck paint we used. And one night
at the Embajada I broke a tooth, and the very next
night three teenagers were shot dead as they sat at
a booth by the window eating mofongo. The neighbor
woman used to sing a funny song from the forties
about a “road” and “clear day,” a fast car and a woman
with a pistol. You could see her back had been broken,
and she dragged her left foot behind her down the
stairs to the mail room. And Junior began smoking
crack after his church on Columbus failed and started
going by his birth name which was Jesus, until he
fell in love with Irma of the hideous rabbit-fur-and-
white-leather jacket, who stopped the cars by waving
her watery hands, smoothing her moth-bitten hair
from her moon-pale face, the violet lipstick she
always wore, until she wound up drowned in the East
River, and no one would say if it was suicide or
murder. But Junior said there were eels inside her and
began preaching again, doped on the corner. Mr.
Rodriguez fired him, though he didn’t want to, and after
Mr. Rodriguez often looked sweaty and pale as he
labored to move stuff to the basement, which he had once
done with Junior to help him. We painted our rooms
cinnamon, Aegean blue, repainted them eggshell, gris-perle.
We fought, and you tore all my letters and diaries and
sprinkled them out the window where they landed on
the roof of your car, plastered there by a violent
summer storm. It took hours to scrape them off; I wept
and Mr. Rodriguez gave me a small plastic-wrapped
packet of Kleenex and a month later you wound up in St.
Luke’s on lockdown and Junior caught pneumonia,
died that November. He was thirty-eight, though we
had believed him older. They buried him in Calvary
Cemetery in Queens. Once I rode a cab out that way —
we got lost, so many ticking minutes among the
slender white spikes of the graves. The red slippers —
they must have been for dancing, thin soled as if with
mouse skin, a powder inside that might have been talc,
rosin, or years of plaster dust, a piece of broken ribbon,
black at the edges as if burned off or torn and smeared with
shoe polish. Or the mice had gnawed it. And you
said “The name of the film,” and I said I thought it was a
story older by far, a girl who puts on the shoes and cannot
get them off, who skips down a road, then another and
across the world, until her feet fall off, and her hands
and they make her wooden ones.
-- Sheila Black
"The Red Shoes"
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Voices and Soul appears on Black Kos Tuesday's Chile; poetry chosen and critiqued by Black Kos Poetry Editor Justice Putnam.
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(Cut Stones and Arch St Ceneri, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
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Question: Who is your audience? What are you here for?
Answer: Tribal Alliances, Heart-felt Convictions, Passionate Reason, Random Abandon, Sustainable Civility and a kiss; to comfort the sad and the mad Ones; the Ones roaming the International section of the American Supermarket at night; or roaming the neglected streets looking for an angry malaprop to sink their teeth into; the Ones who seek without seeking and learn as much as they teach; the Ones who embrace and kiss and embrace again; the Ones who sing the song of the city and the ballads of the forest; the Ones who chant the rhythm of the sea and hum the melody of the desert; the Ones who sing the prayer of Her name and Her name is the World. Yes, those are the Ones. -- JP
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(Man, Girl and Broken Window Klamath Falls, Oregon / copyright Justice Putnam)
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Okiciyap (we help) is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization, your donation should be tax deductible. Okiciyap, located on the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota, is working to provide a food pantry, youth center, K-12 educational support, GED & Lakota as a 2nd language class support for youth and adults. The word Okiciyap is Lakota for "we help."
The Daily Kos Fundraising for Okiciyap group was formed to support the pantry. More information is available at the Okiciyap diaries published here at Daily Kos.
And while you're at it, check out the Connect! Unite! Act! diaries, because why wouldn't you?
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So that explains it... !
Sunlight and Water Pitcher Muir Beach / copyright Justice Putnam
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... Or does it?
(Holy Bible and 3 in 1 Oil Berkeley, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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I took another small sip of water as the next questioner rose, this time by the stacks of French novels. She was cute; red hair, tall, maybe 5'9" or 5'10", well proportioned. Had to be another doctoral student in Comparative Literature at Cal; so even at 24 or 25, was too young for my wandering eye.
"You stated," she stated determinedly, "and I quote; 'Comedy, Poetry and Fiction are only effective and only become Art if there is a Truth behind the humor, the verse and the lie.'"
"Yes," I uttered to fill the small silence.
"In your writing; in your humor, verse and lies, are you telling a Truth about yourself?" she asked, "or are you telling a Truth about the Culture and Society as a whole?"
"Yes," I answered.
--Justice Putnam
"Conversations With The Audience"
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(Rail Road Crossing, Sonoma California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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"Many heroes lived before Agamemnon, but they are all unmourned, and consigned to oblivion, because they had no bard to sing their praises."
-- Horace
"Still the race of hero spirits pass the lamp from hand to hand."
-- Charles Kingsley
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A Windy Day In Normandy
Your floral-print dress
A breeze across fields
Of Sunflower and Lavender
You told me the story
Of the tragedy of
Your family
Your grandfather on
His mailman bicycle
The delivery of
Resistance correspondence
The fear of discovery
(The inevitable retaliation
Against the village
An Uncle hung
In the Square
A few weeks short
Of the liberation)
I watched your tears
As you prayed near
The soldier multitude of
White crosses and
The occasional
Star of David
Here and there even
An alabaster Crescent Moon
You wept for them all
As the tournesol
Faced West
Your dress clung in folds
And your red hair
Framed the History
Of your familial grief
(Saint Ceneri, France, 1994)
© 2005 Justice Putnam
and Mechanisches Strophe-Verlagswesen
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Rest in Peace Aaron Swartz
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(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
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