Having neglected this apparatus for a while, I shall try to write at length. Most of last week was alloted to **recording**, and Tony and I performed relatively well in this respect. Beginning with a lost improv, Monday hooked us up by the armpits after drowning us in equipment failure. In specific, Tony's N-Track machine died. The details of its repair and eventual failure again (resulting in the loss of our improv) is not important. The improv began with an oscillator droning along the lines of *Vegkore...
In the cafe, the voices of people sound murky. They are commingling with the music murmuring from hidden speakers. It all combines to be a muddy slush flowing into my ears. I removed my headphones and it washed sluggishly over me. My mind moves more and more slowly. I shall leave. ...
I'm at Diner 24. That, in itself, is not surprising, since I was hungry after seraching for the **Steve Reich** boxed set called *Phases*. Searching for good music makes my tummy rumble and always has. I used to sift through the cd stores in New York City (Greenwich Village) for hours. I was faint from the effort. Once, Natascha had to pretty much carry me to the diner across the street and feed me forkfull by forkfull until I had regained my strength. Yes, those were the days. I just ordered *Phases*. I ...
I wonder how *cobbler* came to mean a sort of pastry filled with cooked berries or other fruits? A *cobbler* is someone who fixes footwear. The idea of the semantic drift is truly staggering. * Repairing a shoe * Filling the shoe with a foot after reparation * Allowing the shoe to become a crumbly pastry * Detaching the foot from the remainder of the body * Allowing the meat of the foot to become vegetarian * Making sure the vegetarian items within the ex-shoe is now a fruit * Popping the whole thing into ...
The moment of Viking showing himself to me. It was so real that I know my subconsciousness misses him. I wish I could recall the remainder of the dream. Besides the multitudes of people in the past, and how we were all at Tony's before we went to the... the celebration. But Tony didn't come. I was sitting and Scott Hazle was there (actually, he was there from the beginning), and reminding me of lucidity. Damn. ...
At first, I thought it would not work, the initial bit, but on second and third listen, it does. It recycles the mind from what had happened before. Now it is time to put that beautiful melody again within the framework. ...
I must record this here so I may perhaps write about it at a later date. *Why do I not write about it now,* you ask? It's the infernal breezy feeling in my cerebrum. > This duration blindness in the middle-aged > exile is quite a widespread disease. Later, > when I decided to avoid the exile’s > obsession with his roots (exiles’ roots > penetrate their personalities a bit too > deeply), I studied exile literature > precisely > to avoid the traps of a consuming and > obsessive nostalgia. These exiles seeme...
> "Do you like sex?
> "It's ok"
> "Can I come in?"
> "No, you cannot."
> "What is wrong with you?"
> "Nothing. I am just smoking a cigarette."
> "You must be a fag."
> "If you think so."
> "Your kind is everywhere."
> "Possibly."
> "Goodnight."
> "Goodnight."
...
Conversation with a woman outside:
> She drives up in a car. I am smoking a
> cigarette.
> "Did you need something?"
> "Like what, for example?"
> "You were staring at me."
> "No, I am smoking a cigarette."
> "Well, did you need something?"
> "Who are you? Do you work here?"
> "No."
Why was she so uptight?
...
I know some of my friends better than they know themselves. I am thinking of Christian in particular, though I am sure the statement applies in general. They, too, know me better than I know myself in ways. It is the advantage of an outside point of view. We should rejoice in the opinions of others. ...
After the movie came the silence
After the silence came the grief.
...
