Lost in the Blues

In dark of night, Orion stopped to rest.
Orion had not noticed the clearing until his leather boots stepped not the charred ground, soft like white sand but as black as the heavy overhang of fog and cloud in the night sky. There was no moon.
Dust kicked into the air with Orion’s every footfall, billowing like smoke and drifting to the burnt, hellish landscape like fallen angels to a black inferno. Either a strike of lightning or a hapless traveler set fire to a small scar of land, blemishing the beautiful woods, but at least offering an adequate respite for creating a fire and making a camp.
Orion’s Dog, Sirius, dragged himself by Orion’s heel, collapsing in the dust from deep exhaustion. A cloud of ash exploded upward, sticking stubbornly to Sirius’ thing fur, gray with age, resembling the color of a worn stone. The Foloi Forest had taken its toll on both the hunter and the hound, and the travelers’ ultimate victory in passing the forest was to a port city, and then a hard travel by ship to the eastern edge of Greece. Grief enfolded Orion’s body at the thought, and at that moment he desired little more than to crumble beside his companion and to breath in the soot and ash until it filled his lungs and he became one with the earth at last.
The Foloi Forest was not easily passed and its inhabitants bore little kindness towards weary traversers attempting to navigate the labyrinthine series of oak. The woodland creatures of the Gods were as intelligent and cruel as man, yet as wild and strong as animals. Orion was the only hunter so feared and so respected by men and beast that even the mighty centaur people bowed their heads towards him as he passed. The centaurs feared him, the harpies and chimeras feared him, the animals feared him, there were even times when Orion believed the Gods themselves feared him. There was once a time when the slightest offense would garner swift response from his mighty arrow, but in age his pride and temper softened, though his talents and rage were still treated with wary and respect, just as in his youth. His desire for dominance dwindled with time, and he grew tired of the endless toil of the mortal realm. To Orion, paradise was an endless pool to float in with nothing but his thoughts and his dog to keep him company.
Orion dropped his wooden bow, thick as a femur bone, to the dirt. He stretched up to the surrounding trees that were unharmed by the conflagration and snapped several small, dry branches to create his fire. With a well practiced motion, he reached into his belt pocket and removed his flint, striking it several times until the tender alighted. He began to pile larger and large pieces of oak, coaxing the flames up high, and the moment the tendrils of fire reached a high enough point, Orion lied on his back as he shut his eyes. A lead pall dropped onto his aching flesh as his eyelids shut, his muscles screaming their weariness now that they had been given a moment to be heard. Again, Orion imagined himself drifting in darkness, exhausted from the cursed woods of Foloi and his duties to the nearby villages as the world’s greatest hunter.
Sirius leapt to his paws and barked. Over and over, guttered rasps rang out in Orion’s ears. After several moments, Orion groaned to an upright position, ready to shout at the creature to silence its maw.
Yet with the suddenness of Sirius’ yelping, a gust of wind burst into his camp. Ash flew into Orion’s eyes, blurring his vision, and as quickly as it appeared, the wind halted almost at once, leaving the air still and dead once more.. The burnt ground lifted and nearly snuffed out the fire, covering the log in black soot. A pyre of smoke began billowing upward, bulging and shifting even in the breezeless air. Orioni stared at the morphing smoke, shapes appearing and disappearing in the mist-like grayness.
A stream of light crashed down from the heavens. Up above, a moonbeam broke through the encasing clouds, having found a small break in the blanket covering, landing directly on Orion’s smoking fire.
Like a candle illuminating a previously dark home’s details, the moonbeam created shadows and forms to the tower of smoke. Rapidly, a recognizable figure emerged, a young woman in loose fabric, eyes shut, with knee length hair flowing with the smoothness of a river.
Orion retreated backwards, dragging his back on the ground without once looking away from the beautiful fire woman. An instinctual hand grasped his bow without his mind even momentarily considering striking the lady. Sirius, throughout the whole appearance, never ceased his barking.
The lady’s eyes shot open.
With the swiftness and fluidity of falling water, the woman turned her gaze towards Sirius, calmly staring down the ancient dog, whose barred teeth shone reflections of the moon and whose crinkled mouth foamed with angry spittle. The lady lifted an arm smoothly, holding an open palm towards the furious dog. The barking stopped at once. Sirius let out a final, short whine before he collapsed back into the black dust, lying silently but staring at the woman’s face.
The lady of smoke returned her eyes to Orion and opened her lips.
“OH NOBLEST OF HUNTERS, FEAR ME NOT,
I SHOW MYSELF, FURY GONE FROM THIS FORM,
NOT TO HARM YOUR WEARY BODY THIS NIGHT.”
Her voice seemed not to drift softly from her lips as mortal speech does, but to float from far off, carried by nonexistent winds from fields of Tyrian purple. Orion struggled to speak, fearing this visitation could be any form of creature, from a deceitful siren wishing to lure him astray to one of the Gods themselves.
Orion began,
“FORGIVE MY REACTION, MY LADY, BUT-“
The woman raised a hand towards Orion.
“NO, WEARY HUNTER, CALL ME NOT LADY,
I MAY SEEM WOMAN NOW, BUT I AM MORE;
I PASS THROUGH HEAVENS, SWIMMING WITH THE STARS;
I DANCE WITH FAWN AND BUCK THROUGH FOREST THICK;
SEE ME NO MORE AS LADY BUT AS GOD.”
Orion slowly lifted his sore body from the filthy ground, hesitating briefly before speaking.
“THEN PLEASE TELL ME, IF IT OBEYS YOUR WILL,
IF DANCING IN THE SKY BY YOUR FANCY,
AND RUNNING WITH THE DEER BE YOUR DAYS SPENT,
MUST NOT THE CREATURE BEFORE ME BE THE MOON,
THE GODDESS ARTEMIS IN HUMAN FORM?
The lady asked,
“DO I APPEAR BEAUTIFUL TO YOUR HEART?”
He said,
“AYE, GODDESS, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL TO ME,”
The lady asked,
“DO I SEEM STRONG AS THE WILL OF THE WOODS?”
He said,
“AYE, GODDESS, YOU SEEM POWERFUL TO ME,”
She asked,
“DO YOU FEAR ME, AGING, MORTAL HUNTER?”
Orion held silent, lips pursed together as he studied the wondrous being before him. After several moment, he final answered her.
“AYE, GODDESS, YOU ARE FEARFUL AS THE GRAVE.”
She smiled at this comment, nodding her head, hair spilling out around her face as she did.
“’TIS GOOD, MY WORTHY HUNTER, ORION,
I AM TO BE FEARED, BUT WHAT I OFFER,
A GIFT NOT OFT PRESENTED TO MERE MEN,
IS TO BE THOUGHT OVER LONG AND CAREFUL,
DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, NOBLE MORTAL?”
Orion slowly nodded his head, remaining silent.
“I HAVE WATCHED YOU FOR TIME AS OLD AS THEE,
AND SEEN THE CONQUESTS OF YOUR MIGHTY SKILL,
I RULE OVER THE REALMS OF THE HUNTERS,
AND YOUR PROWESS IN THE HUNT SUCCEEDS MINE,
YOU CLAIMED BEFORE THAT I WAS BEAUTIFUL;
DOES THIS SENTIMENT SILL HOLD TRUE NOW?”
Orion nodded once more.
“I ASK BECAUSE, IN MY ENDLESS WATCHING,
I HAVE GROWN FOND OF YOU, STRONG ORION,
I FEAR MOST THAT I HAVE GROWN TO LOVE YOU,
I SWORE MY CELIBACY FOR ALL TIME,
UNLESS I SAW A SKILL BEYOND MY OWN,
THE GODS OF OLYMPUS FEAR YOU, HUNTER,
RUMORS OF BEASTS NO MAN CAN KILL CIRCLE,
AND WHISPERS SPEAK OF NOTHING BUT YOUR DEATH,
IF YOU STAY ON THIS PLAIN, YOUR END WILL COME,
I DO NOT WISH YOUR SOUL INTO HADES,
AND INSTEAD OFFER YOU A PROPOSAL.”
Orion’s lips remained unmoving. He never feared his own death; rather, he sometimes prayed for its soft grasp to take hold of him. Maybe it would finally give him rest. But as the silence grew and thickened, Orion felt the Goddess wished him to speak.
“OH GOOD ARTEMIS, I THANK YOU ENDLESS,
BUT NO MAN CAN STAND THE WRATH OF THE GODS,
AND LEAST OF ALL AN OLD MAN WELL PASSED PRIME,
I DO FIND YOU AS GORGEOUS AS THE MOON,
BUT I FEAR I CANNOT SEE YOUR OFFER,
AND HOW YOU CAN SAVE ME FROM MORTAL FATE.”
The Goddess began,
“THEN LISTEN, MY LOVE, TO WHAT I NOW SAY,
‘TIS TRUE I CANNOT SAVE YOU FROM YOUR DEATH,
BUT IF A GOD BEYOND ME STRIKES YOU DOWN,
I CAN DO NOTHING FOR YOU AS YOU DIE,
BUT IF YOU PASS BEFORE THEY CAN REALIZE,
I CAN THEN GRAB YOUR SOUL BEFORE IT FALLS,
AND I CAN BRINGS YOU UPWARDS TO THE SKIES,
AND I WILL GIVE YOUR PLACE ABOVE AS GOD,
AND GIVE ME A PLACE BESIDE YOU AS WIFE.”
Orion held his tongue again, almost unable to comprehend the Goddess’ words. Even in his most foolhardy days, he never imagined being such a threat to Olympus that the Gods would take his death in their hands. Yet here before him, wafting out of the smoke of his fire, illuminated by the moon above, Artemis offered him a place as her husband, as a God.
The Goddess’ eyes began to dim, the corners of her lips falling slightly.
“WHY DO YOU HESITATE TO TAKE MY LOVE?
AM I NOT WORTHY TO YOUR EYE, YOUR HEART?”
Orion quickly returned,
“OF COURSE NOT, MY SWEET GODDESS OF THE MOON,
BUT HOW MUST I FIND PATH TO YOUR EMBRACE?
ALL MEN ARE MORTAL, WILL I HAVE TO DIE?
EVEN WITH YOUR GIFT, DEATH IS NOT EASY.”
The lady closed her eyes, pausing but a moment, then spoke in a sweet voice, calming and soothing,
“I KNOW ALL MEN ARE MORTAL, ORION,
THE SHIP IN WHICH YOU TRAVEL, FULL OF THIEVES,
THE ONLY WAY YOU WILL EVER HAVE ME,
IS IF YOU THROW YOUR HEART INTO THE SEA.”
Orion imagined the blackness of early morning oceans surrounding him, drowning him. He saw that his desire was to follow this Goddess wherever she led him. He felt not whether it was love that steered his course or whether he was simply too tired to fight the tides any longer. Either way, he felt he must succumb, be it to the whims of the heart or to the strength of the currents.
Orion looked briefly towards Sirius, still lying on the ground, eyes still strained upon the Goddess’ form.
“AND WHAT ABOUT MY FAITHFUL DOG, ARTEMIS?
AND WHAT SHALL SIRIUS’ REWARD BE?”
The Goddess smiled,
“YOU DOG SHALL FOREVER BE AT YOUR SIDE,
SO LONG AS THE EARTH AND HEAVENS SHALL REMAIN.”
Orion’s face revealed nothing of his thoughts. Seconds passed through the stale air, flying through unnoticed by either Goddess or mortal. After many moments, Orion looked to the Goddess, formed of smoke.
“I SHALL DO IT, OH KIND SPIRIT OF THE MOON,
I WISH TO NOT SPEND ONE MORE DAY ON EARTH,
ALL I ASK IS YOU CATCH ME AS I FALL,”
Artemis smiled once more, looking towards the ground. In a torrent of wind with the strength of riptide, the smoke tower shot into the sky, the ash of the burnt forest rising with it. Orion and dog were briefly lifted into the air but the rising soot and dust, then were tossed aside with ease. Ash covered his unkempt hair and stung at his eyes. With a panicked motion, he rubbed his shirt upon his brow, slowly removing the bothersome filth.
Before him, his camp stood cleaned. The burnt remains of the forest was gone. The ground was nothing more than dirt and soil, the ash lifting with the egress of Artemis. Sirius rubbed a paw against his wrinkled face, trying to clean out his eyes. Orion slowly walked over and held Sirius’ head, calming the beast as he helped clean the poor dog’s sight.
“WORRY NOT, MY GOOD COMPANION, BE STILL,
FOR NEVERMORE SHALL WE FEAR PAIN AGAIN.”
In less than a day’s travel, Orion and Sirius reached a port town. Upon declaring his famous name and remarking on his final destination, a caption of a ship named The Serpent offered to bring Orion with him, as his goal was the same piece of land Orion wished to reach.
Orion stayed below deck until nightfall, when he decided the crew was either too drunk to notice him or else entirely fast asleep. Sirius never once left his die, even as he stood by the edge of the ship, staring into the endless sea.
The night sky was clear, the clouds gone from the sky and the fog washed from the air. The sea was calm and the ripples slow and peaceful. The moon shined as brightly as Orion had ever seen. He stared into the celestial orb with thoughts of death and drowning splashing through his mind. It made him happy.
The light of the moon casted a reflection on the water. A shimmering pyre of light traced a line from the horizon to the very edge of the bobbing vessel. The longer Orion’s vision focused on that reflection stream, though, the more it began to take form. As surely as the rise of morning, the outline of Artemis grew from that simple stroke upon the sea. Her hair floated in the ripples like seaweed, her eyes soft and inviting.
At once, Orion leapt into the ocean. The force of his push carried him far, so far it felt as if he floated on the stillness of the evening, and if he shut his eyes, he was sure it would seem he was soaring. Behind him, he heard Sirius run to the lip of the ship and jump, following his descent.
Artemis drew open her arms as tears flew backwards from the corners of Orion’s eyes, sending sparkles of light as they caught the brightness of the moon.
But just before he struck the hard surface of the water, a rogue cloud assembled itself in front of the moon above. Artemis drew backwards, closing her arms to her chest before disappearing at once. Orion wished to shout his surprise, but as his lips opened to speak, water rushed into his mouth, icy cold. His entire body slammed into the depth of the dark sea. Sirius’ body crashed soon after him, sinking alongside his master.
The blackness was utter, for only a moment, however. A sudden flash of light blinked into being in the dark, revealing the fraudulent Artemis. She appeared not as a pillar of smoke nor as a reflection on the sea but as her true form, her body all white, glowing bright with the strength of a full moon on a clean night. Orion began to thrash about wildly. Bubbles drifted up from his flailing arms, fury shining in the drowning old man’s eyes.
The Goddess was not frightened. Rather, she drifted through the water towards him. She reached a single hand to Orin’s rough face, holding his cheek in her palm. His struggles ceased at once. He looked back into the glowing Goddess of the evening, his eyes wide and full of hurt, questioning Artemis with dying focus.
She leaned up to Orion’s ear, her lips close to him. In a slow whisper seeming to come from everywhere at once, the lady spoke,
“I AM SORRY, ORION, I LOVE YOU,
AND THAT, I PROMISE, IS NOT DECEIT.”
Artemis leaned forward and kissed Orion. As her lips touched his, slow dying, another flash shot through the blackness around the hunter. The lady was gone.
Orion looked down to see Sirius slowly sinking below him. With the last bit of his strength, Orion stretched his arm downward and grabbed Sirius’ hide. He tried to pull the dog upward, but only succeeded in pulling himself down lower. Orion wrapped his arms around his dog, already unconscious, and held his body close, hugging the ancient dog’s head as he and his faithful friend drifted downward to meet with destiny.
Above the surface, the moon sat in the sky and mourned. She wished no harm upon her love, but the moon is at the whim of the higher Gods, and only the seduction of the huntress God could finally conquer Orion, the greatest hunter. Even with the job done well, Artemis wept.
At once, the ocean began to shift. Its calmness disappeared, replaced by wild, pitching seas. The moon pulled at the Aegean Sea with godly force. A sphere of water lifted out of the ocean, rising upwards to the sky. Inside the orb of water was the bodies of Orion and Sirius. They continued to rise, until finally they reached the height of the moon. To honor the noble spirit of the hunter, Artemis placed Orion in the heavens, his dog Sirius shining next to him, placing them forever by her side. Neither hunter nor Goddess could ever touch or love one another, but forever they remained close, within sight, lighting the night together.

Skip James was one of the originators of the 30's delta blues styles. The son of a preacher and working as a freelance laborer, Skip James was first recorded in 1931. He very soon feel into obscurity for over 30 years, not recording a single song on wax. After being rediscovered in the 60's recovering from an illness in the hospital, he was taken to Newport to play in the 1964 Newport Folk Festival, along with fellow forgotten delta blues man Son House. Skip James became well known for playing in an open D-Minor style and for using a three fingered picking technique. His song Cypress Grove Blues, released on his original 1931 recording, features an intense declaration of the prejudices and hate the narrator has had to face over his life, utilizing euphemism, imagery, and contradiction to enforce this mood.

Even the title Cypress Grove Blues is a euphemism. He uses the phrase, "When yo' knee bones go to achin' and yo' body gettin' cold, you know, you jes' gettin' ready, honey, for some cypress grove" to represent death. The opening lines declare that he'd rather be dead and buried in some Cypress Grove "Than to have a contrary woman, Lord, I never can control". It is a clever way to talk about wishing to be dead without it becoming a tired cliche through use of a thoroughly original euphemism for death.

The imagery is intense. There is a pervading mood of starkness and cold and bleakness, which is reinforced by the use of striking imagery. The stanza which contains the lines, "I will drink muddy water, sleep in a hollow log, before I stay up here, Honey, treated like a dog", are, to me, the most striking lines in the song. Not only do you see a desperate man clutching for anything to keep himself alive, drinking filthy water and sleeping on a forest floor, but you can emphasized with the man, almost tasting the sting of the muddy water, and feeling the bark dig into your back. The song brings out hopelessness with unmatched talent.

The contradiction in this song is one of the most interesting elements. The final stanza repeats the lines, "I'm gonna sing this song, and I ain't gonna sing no more," over and over. This seemingly paradoxical statement actually emphasizes the narrator's confusion on what to do in the future. It also could be a statement on the blues itself, with him declaring that he does not want to sing, and does not have the time to mourn anymore, yet he knows deep down he has to sing to stay sane. Though the blues is not famous for its deeply poetical lyrics, Skip James proves there is complexity and what seems merely like a simple song.

Lost in the Blues

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Short Story - Orion and Dog

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Song Analysis

Friday, October 1, 2010

Skip James - Cypress Grove Blues

Songs for Visual Assignment - Point of View

Monday, September 27, 2010

Too Many Drivers - Lightnin' Hopkins

See That My Grave Is Kept CLean - Blind Lemon Jefferson

Hellhounds on my Trail - Robert Johnson