Joshua Drew Payne Vocal Reel

 The Many Voices of Joshua Drew Payne

https://m.soundcloud.com/leeroybrownmusic/the-many-voices-of-jp-vocal

Water into Wine; Wonder Bread into Manna

Thought you all might benefit maybe or at least enjoy some info I just sent to a friend via email about slate mineral the bodies need for it and how to get it into yourself. I know I don't post here often, but you always know how to reach me. 

 

LOVE LOVE jP 22 

 

 

 

Dear so and so,

 

Borax or Sodium Borate is an essential slate mineral that USDA claims is poison. Ah.. the rub. Boiron is the brand of a homeopathic sublingual tablet for the daily supplement of said poison, essential for reducing inflammation and the bodies over-reactive responses to EVERYTHING! In three's magnesium, potassium, calcium, not necessarily in order will do the work of this slate mineral if it is not present in your body and thus cause serious deficiency in this said trinity and all relatable diseases will abound. The highest concentrations in the world of Sodium Borate are in California and in Italy, south along the water line to Rimini from Verona and down in the basin of the Mediterranean. That Med basin is among the richest in the world for slate mineral which is why people living there, eat whatever they want and live forever. 

 

Dose: 4 ounces of Aqua Panna every hour and 8 oz before bed. Wait. Urinate. Sleep. Wake early, Urinate. Start again. 

 

BOIRON: 5 sublingual tablet as the labeling prescribes. Never depart from it! 

 

In one year take an accounting, all the while moving very slowly to an all veg diet. Take salt baths in order to prevent Herxheimer reaction. Toxins have to escape and the dermis is the best alternative to an all-out organ dump which kills people trying to get clean. Salt baths do this effectively, but exit the water at 12 minutes on the dot. 

 

Now that levels are regulated it's time to correct diet and live in an absolute raw and blanched veggie state in order to give the body a second level chance to completely eliminate bacteria and viral infections lodged into the spine. In another year, one will be free of said maladies and the body will not longer think itself a slave to the bugs that had overtaken it. It will think and do for itself. Bugs be gone! 

 

Parasites. Cleansing of parasites need not be awful. Once a month eat black walnut in pill form. Once a week take 600 IU of B1. Daily eat lemon zest, carrot (unpeeled), garlic, turmeric, ginger, and hawthorn (pill form). A NOTE about Hawthorne. Take it and it only solo for one week to see it and understand it in ones body. Then one can recognize the need or overabundance of it in the system. My firm recommendation is to do this with ALL supplements. People get toxicity most times from a multivitamin. The body is not a cure-all throw in a bunch of shit kind of machine. It knows the difference between a walnut and an almond and heats the stomach accordingly. Fine tune it by fine tuning what you put into it. Listen to every single thing that goes in. Food combination need be a rare dainty. Eat plain. Take time. Gather. Eat something by itself. Give that something time to do its work then eat another thing but only if you want it ... later, later, later. Discpline! 

 

SLATE MINERALS: Remembering that fertilizer blocks the uptake of all slate minerals into plants, decide now to grow your own and Eat seasonal. Even certified organic produce is covered in shit. The eventual game is to be independent of the outside food game. I make water bread nearly every cooking day and nothing compares to it. Processed food be gone. LASTLY if you must eat what is not PERFECT, for heavens sake bless it: thank God for it! And pray the most important and most often overlooked miracle that exists on earth: FOR the healing of our food. Water into wine; Wonder Bread into Manna! Love you jP 

 

 

 https://www.facebook.com/groups/1499689283613319

What the 4th!!!

 I’ve got this great idea. Let’s celebrate war trauma and freedom every year by blowing shit up all night and creating more trauma;  disregarding crying babies, frightened wildlife and terrified domestic pets and their humans intuitive enough to see the suffering.

Yeah! Let’s create God knows how many fires nationwide, and let’s just pretend we don’t hear the cries and noise complaints of the elderly shut-ins or the mentally ill or the confused, not to mention our war-torn veterans with PTSD! Yeah! Let’s just continue blasting and create the loudest biggest ass human footprint possible, all the while jizzing on everything peaceful. Won’t that be great?! Cant wait!!! 

And hey! While we’re at it, maybe, just maybe, on the same day, we could remember the loss of a loved one with more death, the abolishment of slavery with slavery, abuse recovery with more abuse, the rescuing of someone from a domestic violence situation with more domestic violence, extinction with more extinction, divorce and betrayal with more divorce and betrayal, injustice with more injustice and stupidity with um ... oh. 

Yeah. We could do that. 

Or maybe, just maybe, we could create long heroic exalted moments by actually being heroic and exalted and maybe raising our remembrances with reverence because we know and crave reverence and disciplined silence — maybe because we are actually considering what freedom ACTUALLY costs. That might be an option over worldwide bombastic masturbation. 

Love is not loud, yoga is not ass pants and mirrors, and tranquillity actually is tranquility.

You want peace? Be peaceful. This tradition is madness. 

#questioneverything 

#nashville

#4thofjuly 

#thejoshuapayne

#nofilter

#wakeup

#freedomfromopression

jP2021

The horses of my childhood

 The horses of my childhood run beyond the promised land, 

 On sea and mountain never seen while they were bound by men.

 

 They call to me, the boy they loved,

approaching thrones of heaven 

 Petitioning on my behalf, “is not our boy in season?

The broken body scarce contains the spirit of his being?

 Might this string of horses rise on crescent moon to meet him?”

 “Patience now, the child of water rises from the sand.

  Must lay down his life, Eternal art, to die a happy man.

 For this great purpose he remains whilst you run wild these shores.

 He pines for you sad violence fires his pen to boundless joy.

 And when Eternal Art, to Me, the letters finally spill his blood,

 Across that great divide ride We

to meet again the boy you loved.”

jP 2021.13.6

See her how she flies ...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKfqBgUkRkw

 
I never know how or when to let cats out of bags or restore any faith in Fans that I’m actually doing any work these days 😂 but I’ll say this. Gone are the days of marketing teams, branders and developers who make the rules about the when’s and the whys. Today it’s, “here’s another kindly tune I worked out in my spare time for posterity, catalog, for joy or to fill some sorrowful mournful coping space or because someone made the happy suggestion (and I typically try to submit to those on account that they are seldom accidental; and even if they never see the light of day, there is always something wonderful to learn in the trying). This song in particular took me back to Mineral Wells, my childhood, and riding around in my dad’s ol’ Ford Pickup.

My buddy Bruce Gaitsch said in my hearing once, “Joshua Payne never forgets a song.” Oh how I relished that!! But the comment came after I sat on a beautiful guitar version of “Sailing” he’d sent me years before to sing. And true to my word, I did finally work it up;added some supportive piano and recorded a vocal on it. He was thrilled by the effort and so was I, but it, that song in particular, also explained another element to me about my own process.

West Texas, my father used to sit long on the tailgate of that old green Ford and look hard at a job, smoke a cigar, drink a little coffee and think. I remember sitting with him as a little boy (eating my biscuit and holding tightly to my little Josh claw-hammer). On said jobs some boss man or customer would invariably come over to rattle dad’s cage with some scheidt like “What are you doing?! I don’t pay you sit around!” My pop would coolly and kindly look up at dude and say, “I’m giving you the best part of myself; I’m thinking.” The boss man would often go full tilt and sometimes even come unglued, but would most always leave dad to his incredibly confident process. Dad would rib to me, “Jackson? What do you say we dive in right now, do it 90 times and waste as many of these materials as possible?” I would giggle wide-eyed as pop continued, “Or, we could, finish our breakfast, think on it, and do it once?” I can still see my young handsome charismatic father grinning ear to ear at me with delight. I always loved working carpentry with my pop.

Apparently, I’m a lot like him. I don’t take my work lightly; the “building” of tunes. It’s never been about someone else’s version of perfection or “getting it right” to some standard set by the boss man. I, like my father, am always looking for another way, a kinder, gentler path for myself; a way to understand why it is I’m sitting at the feet of this particular work. There is a gratitude and a meditative space there. And in those moments I know “Jackson, savor this.” And simpler, I have to understand what I’m doing first, to give any spirit or life or truth to it. And for me, for my father, that often takes time. That said, I’ve got a list of recordings I owe to so many requests by friends and Fans simply because I’m marinating or even after a some full process, I never really believe I’ve arrived. Those often sit on shelves for years. But then, when it’s time, there is simply a sort of Keith Richards “giving up” and a surrender to what is. And in that a proverbial “release”, one walks away, like his father before him, without looking back. “Son, ‘don’t let your right hand know what your left hand is doing.’” There again, as a boy, as a man, more to think on.

The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress came 2 years ago at the even further back request of a dear sister and powerful jazz musician Maritree Garrett. I wanted to honor her. It’s surely some great compliment when a talent like that wants to hear a bloke like me do anything. 🙂

Why this artwork? Only that child inside knows; little West Texas Josh with his claw-hammer on the tailgate of that ol’ green Ford, listening so fervently to the Rhinestone Cowboy himself, my biggest vocal influence, Glen Campbell, looping an 8-track behind me.

Present day, I can actually hear a team of label execs in my mind saying “no, no, no!” and worse. But only I can sooth my own savage beast. I am my father’s son. And so at the cross-section of longing and nostalgia, soothing, and submission to this great and wonderful process, here is yet another hammered-up piece of my musical existence. Simply as it came out, virtually in One Pass, after years of sitting on my tailgate, sipping on coffee, and quite simply “thinking about it”.

Xo
jP 2o21

Joshua Payne - The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress (Glen Campbell cover)

#fathersandsons
#childhood
#nostalgia
#wonder
#joy
#westtexas
#glencambell
#cowboys

Behind the covetous mask, men shape war. Freedom does not black itself with white ideal nor white itself with oppression. Who told you to listen to the rich? Who gave you the coveted tool of your own demise? Did not the field and a friend call you to pluck the heart of wheat and provide provisions of the hare? All the grasses of the field, are they not yours?



To work a keep meant usefulness. Why then has community structured itself in tenements?



I looked out and saw great men, weak of mind, strong of back, and I built a lie they bought. I stole the water from under their feet and sold it back to them laced with control. I placed a window into their hands and told them to look within for commerce and further instruction. The moment they stopped looking into the sun, was that moment I bound them. Now their children war and riot and feud knowing not the source of their hate. I showed them color, and division and separatist ideas and they bought from my convenient store and ate of the tree of nationality. I pitted their champions and colonized their thinking, and estranged them enemies, jackal, lion, bull, cheetah, wolf, hart, hyena. I invented the carnivore and terror fell among them. And all who were peaceful mindful men of change hid, strung, deep in the bowels of my own masterpiece theatre.



jP2020

Jesus Wept

And Jesus, when confronted with the leper, dawned a mask and distanced himself on a mountain for fear of contracting the disease. And he yelled down to his his disciples, “Go and do likewise. Allow fear to consume you. Be separate and be afraid. Be very afraid. Do your part. Isolate. Preach fear from behind your cell phone. Model this fear to your children. Teach them to live in fear by showing them how flighty you can be. Hoard. Store up for tomorrow, give nothing away, because my father in heaven is a liar and will absolutely do nothing for you. There is nothing beyond this life so take what you can when you can. Covet. Steal. Take what is not yours and avoid sick people so you can live long! There is no virtue in wasting your life for the sake another!
My father in heaven sent me to live a long life here on earth and to ultimately show you how to abandon your sick neighbor — to build high technological fences.
So
Birth a generation of pasty immunodeficient weak rich fat anti-social parasite mongoloid robots. Give them cell phones to numb any pain and to distract them in their time alone or from the ridiculous notion or temptation to help the oppressed. Insure that they stay home and become followers of this way. And further, encourage them to live in bubbles because dirt is bad. Wash your hands with bleach or you’ll die. Don’t touch your face or you’ll die. Don’t care for the sick or you’ll die. Leave them be! This way you can survive and the poor can die off forgotten, filthy beggars that they are.

Finally, compassion and love — myths! that will potentially kill you. It’s written in the same folklore that alleged, ‘And they walked among the sick and were unharmed.’ Its simply not possible! Note — the mask?! Now if you’ll excuse me I need to wash my hands of you!”

— Passages from the existential postmodern church bible (The same one all good safe clean Christians read).



jP2020