Jon Murdock - The Book Of Life (). 01 - Intro. 02 - The Memorial. 03 - I Was Dreaming. 04 - I Will Survive. 05 - Spitting Image. 06 - Drug X. Jon Murdock – The Book Of Life () [USA]. |. Dez Flight Underground. Jon Murdock - The Book Of Life. Size: 94 Mb, Quality: Kbps. 1. Intro 2. The Book of Life, an Album by Jon Murdock. Released in (catalog no. n/a; Digital File). Featured peformers: Jon Murdock (rap, aka_text lyrics role_id.
|Language:||English, Spanish, Japanese|
|Genre:||Academic & Education|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Sign up for free]|
EYE OF RA THE PLEIADIAN AUSTRALIEN HIPHOP DATABASE. Thursday, 28 March Jon Murdock-The Book of Life (). Jon Murdock, , Dark City, check it, yo [Hook] The grip constricts, squeezes life from the physical Do or die when slugs fly, you're losing your life. Check out The Lost Children Of Babylon Present: Dark City, Part 1 [Explicit] by Jon Murdock on site Music. Stream ad-free or download CD's and MP3s now .
I had no idea that he was one of the first employees at the magazine when it was started, in It was only when I found their letters to Murdock and books about them in his suitcases that I understood the history.
What made you decide to put this book together? It started as an exercise just for the family. This made me seek out the families and estates of his artist, and dealer friends and I started to feel a responsibility to them as well—particularly those who did not have children to record their histories.
What difficulties did you face in researching your grandfather? He wrote piles and piles of autobiographical stories but none were dated. I had to create a time line of people and events to figure out when things happened. Being from humble roots in Kansas and having worked to help support his family since he was a young boy, Murdock had a love-hate relationship with the upper echelon of society.
He asked that the Met set aside a room for the work of living artists. He called for art to be displayed in libraries and universities, and in some cases to be sold in department stores. He wrote about what a wonderful thing it was when the W. Let time take care of the evaluation.
He would probably think that the critics today have a pretty cushy life since he was seeing upwards of ten exhibits some weeks and then writing a weekly column! Theft — of crops, animals, fish from ponds, trees from gardens — was rife. Graves were ransacked, outhouses pilfered, flimsy dwellings robbed.
The only protection against all these ne'er-do-wells was the night watch, often a motley collection of easily corrupted incompetents, universally mocked.
In an age of open fires, timber buildings and no running water, fire was an even greater danger, capable of destroying whole neighbourhoods in hours.
Yet despite its many dangers, the night held a mighty appeal. They could no longer be overseen by their superiors. Apprentices, servants, the poor, the excluded and the underprivileged could for once escape the eyes of their masters, employers and oppressors: darkness was their mask. Those fearful of arrest could move safely under cover of darkness. Lovers could tryst, adulterers could couple, prostitutes could work, homosexuals could meet.
The Metropolitan police was born in , as gas lamps multiplied. Street lighting was, self-evidently, a powerful weapon of both economic and social control, and in the urban riots that swept much of Europe in the s and 40s, gas lamps were invariably one of the first targets, for symbolic as well as practical reasons.
At the same time, advances in lighting seem almost to have foreshadowed advances in thought: Professor John Carey has noted that the dawn of the age of Enlightenment is usually put at the beginning of the 18th century, when street oil lamps first appeared in Paris, and that Nietzsche's announcement of "the death of God" coincided with the appearance of the electric light bulb, "invented" by at least 22 people before an improved version was successfully commercialised by Thomas Edison from The pre-industrial night, however, was widely regarded with dread and fascination in equal measure: "I curse the night," confessed William Drummond in , "but doth from day me hide.
In an age before widespread light pollution, the illumination of the moon and the stars was far more useful on a clear night, starlight alone cast shadows. People knew their neighbourhoods intimately: every tree, every hedge, every post.
On the Downs, great piles of chalky soil, known as "down lanterns", served as beacons. Bark would be cut from strategic trees to expose the lighter wood beneath. The senses of hearing barking dogs , smell a honeysuckle bush and touch a notch cut in a banister at a sharp turn in the stairs became all the more important.
For before artificial lighting, indoors was just as treacherous as outdoors: in Sweden, it was common practice to push the furniture against the walls before retiring to bed, so you wouldn't bump into it if you rose in the middle of the night.
Man had advanced, by the late 18th century, from the first flaming torches through primitive lights made, as long as 15, years ago, by placing moss or some other fibre in a shell or hollow stone, and filling it with animal fat to, on the continent at least, handsome pottery and metal oil lamps sporting sophisticated wicks and artfully sealed reservoirs filled with olive, sesame, fish, nut or plant oil.
In Britain, for some reason, we favoured candles. As a rough estimate, one watt electric bulb generates the light of approximately candles.
By the late s, most of our aristocratic homes would have been lit by a selection of candles made of expensive beeswax, or perhaps from even more expensive spermaceti, the wax extracted from the head cavities of sperm whales. The poor, overwhelmingly, made do with humble rush lights: reeds dipped in some form of animal fat.
These burned even more unevenly than tallow candles and smelled worse, but did the job, more or less, for an hour or so. What job were they required to do? What did decent folk do after dark? The upper-class young blades drank the night away. Men in towns and cities took themselves to an alehouse. Others had chores after the evening meal: furniture to build, tools to repair, beer to brew.
Women carded and spun wool, and wove it.
There were parlour games to play, folk tales to tell, gossip to swap, friends and family to entertain. The literate few read, or wrote. And then, by 9pm or at the latest 10, to bed.
Once there, Ekirch relates in perhaps his most fascinating revelation, pre-industrial man slept a segmented sleep. He has found more than references, from Homer onwards, to a "first sleep" that lasted until maybe midnight, and was followed by "second sleep".
In between the two, people routinely got up, peed, smoked, read, chatted, had friends round, or simply reflected on the events of the previous day — and on their dreams. Plenty also had sex, by all accounts far more satisfactorily than at the end of a hard day's labouring. Couples who copulated "after the first sleep", wrote a 16th-century French doctor, "have more enjoyment, and do it better". Experiments by Dr Thomas Wehr at America's National Institute of Mental Health appear to bear out the theory that this two-part slumber is man's natural sleeping pattern: a group of young male volunteers deprived of light at night for weeks at a time rapidly fell into the segmented sleep routine described in so many of Ekirch's documentary sources.
It could even be, Wehr has theorised, that many of today's common sleeping disorders are essentially the result of our older, primal habits "breaking through into today's artificial world". Of all this have we been robbed by the onward march of industrial lighting. By we, of course, I mean most people in the developed world. It's worth remembering that there are still large parts of the globe where it's still up at sunrise, and to bed pretty soon after sundown.
But in some ways, argues Ekirch, rather than making night-time more accessible, we are actually risking its gradual extinction. City-dwellers, and many others, have now all but lost their view of the heavens, a source of awe and wonder since the beginning of time. And since affordable artificial lighting now allows all of us to go to bed so much later, consolidating our sleep into one more or less continuous spell, our dreamlife has been disrupted and our understanding of ourselves impaired.
So thanks, William Murdoch.
Daylight robbery: why did we put the clocks back?