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	<title>microprose &#8211; A Year of Songs</title>
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	<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg</link>
	<description>music, memories, and microfiction from TK Major</description>
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	<title>microprose &#8211; A Year of Songs</title>
	<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg</link>
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	<item>
		<title>Steve &#8216;Caz Camberline&#8217; Becker&#8230; Rest in peace, my brother.</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2020/12/19/stephen-caz-camberline-becker-rest-in-peace-my-brother/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2020/12/19/stephen-caz-camberline-becker-rest-in-peace-my-brother/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Dec 2020 21:58:43 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[commentary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[essay]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ann De Jarnett]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bill Moulinos]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Caz Camberline]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[James Norling]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kurt Schnyder]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rick Black]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Steve Becker]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=4179</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[I don&#8217;t quite remember the first time I met my near-lifelong pal, Steve Becker. He was a childhood friend of my first roommate, a quiet, even taciturn element in the sometimes rowdy mix of mostly musicians who hung out in our strange &#8212; and supposedly haunted &#8212; garret/loft apartment, a sprawling, mostly empty, multi-level space [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		
		
			</item>
		<item>
		<title>Pass the dust, I&#8217;m apparently under the gravely mistaken impression I&#8217;m Bowie&#8230;</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2013/04/08/pass-the-dust-im-apparently-under-the-gravely-mistaken-impression-im-bowie/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2013/04/08/pass-the-dust-im-apparently-under-the-gravely-mistaken-impression-im-bowie/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 08 Apr 2013 18:18:49 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[combo]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[debut]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[one blue nine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[anxiety]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[destiny]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[emptiness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[eternity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fate]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fear]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[kismet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[light]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ontology]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[scared]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scared of the Light]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[void]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=1121</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Scared of the Light [Electric Version] &#160; When he awoke, it was dark. His heart was pounding. He felt as though a giant hand was wrapped around him, squeezing the breath out of his lungs. He must have been dreaming but he remembered nothing. He forced air into his lungs, but his breath felt odd [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		
		
			</item>
		<item>
		<title>Flat Five Jump (Instrumental)</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2009/11/29/flat-five-jump-instrumental/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2009/11/29/flat-five-jump-instrumental/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Nov 2009 07:41:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[debut]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[instrumental]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Flat Five Jump]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[jump start]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love at first sight]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=424</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[&#160; &#160; &#160; new instrumental Wet eucalyptus leaves buried the wipers on the old Falcon station wagon. He scooped up three handfuls, throwing them into the gutter by the curbside of the rusty wagon. A light drizzle was falling and he knew in his heart of hearts that the car wouldn&#8217;t start.  It&#8217;d been three [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		
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			</item>
		<item>
		<title>I&#8217;m Starting to Really Hate Dreaming</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2009/06/20/im-starting-to-really-hate-dreaming/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2009/06/20/im-starting-to-really-hate-dreaming/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sat, 20 Jun 2009 23:34:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[video]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[broken heart]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dreams]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[I’m Starting to Really Hate Dreaming]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=419</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[New song alert! He woke up with sweaty sheets wrapped around him like swaddling, like the shroud on a mummy. He felt like he hadn&#8217;t been asleep at all. His stomach felt knotted and empty but the last thing on his mind was food. Every dream was different. Every dream was the same. A thousand [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		
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		<item>
		<title>Looking for trouble&#8230; I&#8217;m already in trouble</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2009/01/26/looking-for-trouble-im-already-in-trouble/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2009/01/26/looking-for-trouble-im-already-in-trouble/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 27 Jan 2009 05:48:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[video]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[doomed]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fate]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Looking for Trouble]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=413</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[The rusty little Bug was leaking rain in from the windows and they had to keep their feet forward to keep them out of the murky water that would slosh back and forth from back seat to the front, washing across the shifter linkage hump like the North Sea over a broken dike. But they [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		
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			</item>
		<item>
		<title>&#034;He wrote some good little songs&#8230;&#034;</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/08/16/he-wrote-some-good-little-songs/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/08/16/he-wrote-some-good-little-songs/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sat, 16 Aug 2008 22:28:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[combo]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Forget About the Moon]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Reggie Ashley]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=401</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Gotchya. No&#8230; not dead yet. Although regular readers may be forgiven for expecting that the next writing filling this space after some weeks of my absence might well be a tearful eulogy from a grieving friend or loved one who&#8217;d somehow managed to crack my passwords. But&#8230; nah. I&#8217;m still breathing and walking around. In [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		
		
			</item>
		<item>
		<title>Suns explode and worlds collide&#8230;</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/07/27/suns-explode-and-worlds-collide/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/07/27/suns-explode-and-worlds-collide/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 28 Jul 2008 02:35:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[combo]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mandolin]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Trainwreck Life]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=398</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Stuff happens. No matter how meticulously you plan, how many contingencies you try to cover, how much you practice and drill, unforeseen events upend the best laid plans &#8212; or the gods of unforseen consequences lay a hand on an outcome and before you know it, everything is upside down, inside out, and your goose [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		
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			</item>
		<item>
		<title>Doll-eyed again&#8230;</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/06/07/doll-eyed-again/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/06/07/doll-eyed-again/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sun, 08 Jun 2008 05:44:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[addiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[drugs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Just Like a China Doll]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=392</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[She&#8217;s Got Eyes Just Like a China Doll &#8220;Never trust a junkie.&#8221; She&#8217;d told him that a million times&#8230; when she wasn&#8217;t using or jonesing. Just about every junkie he&#8217;d ever known more than 15 minutes had said it at one point or another. But he wasn&#8217;t good at tough love, only the stupid, hopeless [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		
		
			</item>
		<item>
		<title>Baby was a pistol way too hot to hold&#8230;</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/05/15/baby-was-a-pistol-way-too-hot-to-hold/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/05/15/baby-was-a-pistol-way-too-hot-to-hold/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 15 May 2008 13:54:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Baby Was a Friend of Mine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[betrayal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[forgiveness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lies]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loyalty]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=387</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[He sat there. The phone was still in his hand. Finally he put the handset in the cradle. Outside, the sun was so bright it seemed to bleach the color out of the street. The view in front of him, his feet, the carpet under them, a loop of telephone cable, flattened out until it [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		
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			</item>
		<item>
		<title>The water&#8217;s cold, the moon is pale&#8230;</title>
		<link>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/05/02/the-waters-cold-the-moon-is-pale/</link>
					<comments>https://ayearofsongs.org/blg/2008/05/02/the-waters-cold-the-moon-is-pale/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[TK]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 02 May 2008 12:26:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[acoustic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[microprose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[existential dilemma]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Forget Her Eyes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[moonlight]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[suicide]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[swim into darkness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[swim or die]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ayearofsongs.org/blg/?p=385</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[There had been a lot of women. At least by the standards of happy, well-adjusted people. That&#8217;s how he figured it these days. But for a long time, he&#8217;d been proud on some level he knew to be infantile, silly, superficial, tawdry&#8230; but proud, nonetheless. Forget Her Eyes http://www.archive.org/download/TkMajor_SwimOrDie_ay0s_2008-05-01/2008-05-01_AYoS_Swim_or_Die.mp3 previous versions Monday, November 21, 2005 [&#8230;]]]></description>
		
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