tomorrow night (friday that is), come to the grind at clark university to see me, yoni gordon, and walrus (ryan seaton & sarah). show’s at 9pm, and unlike other shows, this does not cost money. but don’t think this is the way all shows work- usually you’d be expected to kick in gas money for the people from out-of-town and that’s the way it is. this is a weird exception on account of it being at the college. anyway, 9 o’clock, it’ll be really good.
last night it did a reading at the dirt palace, which i had been tearing my hair out over for the whole week previous. it went pretty ok. mike t said the writing was smart but i was talking too fast, which (the fastness) i had anticipated but decided to do nothing about. typical. i mostly read journal entries and it went over well, people laughing at the funny parts and such. right about smack dab in the middle i snuck in a passage from “rememberance of things past”, disguised as another diary entry. lots of people came up to me later saying “i really enjoyed that longer one!”. i fessed up immediately and consequently a lot of people went home with “marcel proust - rememberance of things past” written in ballpoint pen on the backs of their hands. considering that my musical shows are always intercut with enourmous sections of just me talking, i figured it would be best if i interspersed the reading with music, so i brought a shmaltzy nostalgic piano album (john wallowitch “this is…”, which is actually /the/ shmaltzy piano album) and seeded the night liberally with random needle drops. it was good. the theme for me was nostalgia- the snow is melting, revealing a winter’s worth of forgotten lawn trash, and as for me, i think i reached an acceptable ratio of getting pumped for the future by looking at the past, and honest (for what it’s worth) pathology. hung out at the dirt palace for a while afterwards- “no boys, babies, heroin, dogs, or reality tv”.
today i helped jenine move (because i lways help people move) and she bought me and matt coe french fries falafel soda pop and soy dogs w/ sauerkraut. tonight i’m just chilling at mike’s house spending a quiet night reading comic books. bigfoot paul’s cooking up some grub, and he got the maltese falcon dvd from the library.
oh, i almost forgot, i added to my list “tick tack” “rick rack”, and “riff raff”. tiffiniy, i’m still abstaining from “tick tock”. and “tighty whities”.
ok! finally! here’s the animals for the past few days (new mechanism / page design coming soon to end these troubles hopefully). moving backwards through time (it’s just as fine as any other way) and starting last night, we have:
a blue dog, a tiger cat both ferocious and paisley (see also its face), a hugger of things, a sort of bummer storm cloud, a genie (pictured above), a bluebird (but not of happiness), a spiritual ape with radiant face, and lastly, this fine rocket dog, made the day after the diamond dog, and second in a line of projectile dogs.
last night i went over nick’s and hung out with aross, who is on tour with the rock band ok go as their new guitarist. it’s pretty great. i mean, the band is on capitol, and getting pretty classically big labeled (which is to say, dicked over), but aross has no emotional or artistic committment, and is just along for the ride and the man-on-the-inside information. the band is fun to hang around with and he’s getting paid pretty good. they play at tt the bear’s in cambridge on the 31st.
oh, we watched “wizard people, dear reader“, which is an alternate narration to the first harry potter movie that you download and sync up with the movie (which is on mute). it was really really good. it wasn’t a strictly detourned movie like “what’s up tiger lily?”, where new voices were dubbed over. it was more like being read a hilarious book of exuberant prose based on the movie while you watched the events transpire in front of you. elsa and vin, i think you guys will really like this.
cybele, you ask how friday’s show went. well, cybele, it went pretty good, even though steve dracula and mildew had to cancel (due to illness (possibly blood poisoning (or allergies))). the show started with fantasy’s core, who as i said hail from nagasaki japan. they weren’t a noise band at all, they were straight-up rock music, and it was pretty awesome. the singer was very energetic and had many a fine move. two guitars, bass, drums, and a singer, jumping up and ending the song on the landing, rock action. after them like some sort of asshole was me. i played not in the stage area (the “abbie hoffman performance center”) but off to the side. it was pretty much the same set i did on the startown optimists tour, playing saxophone into max/msp, where it got chopped and sequenced and spat back out for me to play along with. since the show had been reduced by two acts i felt i should play slightly longer than the 8 minutes i had allotted myself, so after the dancey cut-up stuff i played unaccompanied for a little while and it felt pretty good. now, usually shows at the wag are really loud, because it’s a cavernous space and you kind of have to crank it just to tread water. since i’m never really loud, this has always been a problem. friday, everything kind of worked to my advantage. playing unaccompanied (and unamplified), i has able to listen to the sound bounce around the room, and it was really enjoyable. additionally the echo of the place provided a funny contrast to the extremely artificial “intelligent” echo that dominated the first half of my set. i had a lot of fun, people were huddled close around me and into it, i was hopping up and down on one foot, boppin’, hummin’, screechin’, searchin’ and lurchin’. after me was a band called uncle grandpa (no relation to uncle dad) that was kind of a cargo-cult lightning bolt: the drummer chirping into a contact mic that was affixed to a mask he was wearing, the guitarist playing though a pedal array. but no proggy progressions and so, no pummelling. they whittled wooden walkie talkies but the planes just would not land. still, they were having a good time, they BYO Fog Machined, and to shoot straight, it was all kind of endearing. after them was fat worm of error, who, like fantasy’s core, took advantage of the PA system, and were so loud. the singer sounded like “orphans”-era lydia lunch and had numerous costume changes. actually, she had a new monstruous costume for every song. the band is set up like a rock band with two guitarists, bass, and drums, but similarities end there. they play with that good rhythm i like, where it’s more about shifting densities than it is about playing along. also every member of the band had a suitcase full of pedals. is this a workable description yet? there are mp3s on their geocities webpage.
after the show there was a funny party at lilah’s house, then what? uh, today i read about and played with cellular automata, and ate pancakes for what might be the sixth day in a row. and i had dinner at the da lat with my mom. when they bring you chopsticks at da lat now they come in a little paper sleeve that says “you have a good delectable meal”. now, i read this as a suggestion, as one might read “have a nice day”. my mom read this as a description, like “you have a yellow hat.”. i guess the latter statement is a peculiar one to announce in such a fashion, but in the case of my evening’s meal (#86 and an avocado milkshake (w/soy milk)), it is by no means false.
jamped again! taking off with the ideas introduced on the noodles inc. “antizoodespotation EP”, here’s this hatebeak / caninus split 7″, bands fronted by, respectfully, a parrot and two pitbulls. F!
ok, things are getting better. the doldrums always hit you know, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that historically you’ve always fought and won. what helps? the old standbys; shaving the face, getting fresh air, talking to people on the phone, knowing that there are alternatives, cleaning the room. i cleaned up my room a lot. not so much that one wouldn’t come in and say “this is a messy room”, but clean in a way that a careful examination would reveal unprecedented order and streamlining. yes, it’s true that i’ve thrown things away, but it was all serious garbage, not fun stuff or usefull except in a very remote fat chance way. i have an agreement with nick, who is concerned about my mental health, but also about the future of my roadside museum / object library, but mainly the idea of me kicking myself later (and doing some damage), that if i feel like getting rid of something, i have to run it by him first. nick- we’re talking paper towel tubes and box factory catalogs. maybe this still qualifies, but a fellow needs his thinking space.
tonight’s show– you going? it’s at the wag at 7:30. i think i’m going on first or second. fat worm of error is a great slithering and flopping life-affirming mess. my jacob bird hospital set will be, well, i feel i always make every effort not to waste anybody’s time. fantasy’s core is a straight-up rock band from nagasaki (who may or may not have a film crew with them) and both mildew and steve dracula are power electronics from wisconsin. the only band i’ve seen/know about are FWOE, but in my opinion they’re worth the whole shebang. and it’s a benefit for dc-fiy so you can’t go $5 wrong. see you in the pit!
i’ve been cleaning my room and even throwing out micellaneous papers (!), getting ready for… something. today i’m tackling the barn. in the meantime, enjoy this dreamlike frankenstein toy lab (be sure and check out the galleries). also see this .mov of a vampire bat running on a treadmill. this is much like how i run in my dreams, when i have running dreams, speaking of dreams.
as promised:
the schecter variation: ben schecter is a chess coach in new york city now, a pretty sweet gig, and he gets a stipend every month to buy the chess magazines and new books to keep abreast of developements. i guess (i’m hearing this secondhand) he’s a little freaked out because the other teachers are like in the american top 100, and he’s nowhere near their level. *but*, in the new york chess scene anyway, he has a move named after him. the move, as is my understanding, is a weird little ephus that he does frequently, which rarely works out, but which he can’t stop doing. for our uses, the schecter variation is that special fuck-up so ingrained that hopefully people start to celebrate you for it. ben, is this fair? and please tell me more!
the hayflick limit: most cells (excluding cancer cells) have a predetermined number of times that they will divide, if left to their own devices. anti-aging researchers are studying ways to reset the hayflick limit. again, for our purposes, the hayflick limit is the possibly arbitrary amount of times you should repeat doing something before terminating. my daily pancake hayflick limit is 6 cakes.
pictured above, from two days ago, van gogh’s ear. from yesterday, a diamond dog.
today i listened to this conversation between john cage and morton feldman. they were discussing intrusions, specificallly being on a beach with many transistor radios around. feldman wasn’t into it. cage: “i used to feel this way, then i wrote a piece for six transistor radios. now when i’m around them i just think ‘ah, they’re playing my song.’.”.
fujichia: we’re playing y/our song.
today’s craftsfair was good, but for me, it was knid of a bummer. first, i didn’t get the registration in on time, because i’m an idiot. but that worked out because adam hotcakes and marie’s craft thing robot parade had a table and i split it with them and goofed off. the second problem was that after the as220 crafts fair last week, i put my box of goods in my mom’s car and then she left town. so all i had was some t-shirts i printed up the night before. i made some money, but i wish i had more representative stuff, because more than just making money, i wanted to in some way connect with anyone that was in any way into what i do. oh well. the whole thing was held at union station, which is a great place for such things. a lot of people came out, there was music and dance troupes, it was great. i was in a kind of lousy mood on account of not having my stuff, also i feel like i was being outgoing to the point of kind of freaking people out. union station has bars on either end of it, and the best part of the day was when me and anne from dc-fiy snuck off and drank whiskey at 1pm, then she said, “now we have to headbutt!”. also good was meeting a guy who works for merriam webster, the very guy who wrote the definitions for “gaydar”, “blog”, and “yada yada”.
oh, i drew a lot of caricatures, which was fun. there was another guy doing caricatures too, but i really don’t think our customer base had much overlap.
oh, and i’m not doing the boston zinefest tomorrow- i’m not sure if i’m even registered, i never even finished (or, for that matter, started) the new zine, and let’s be frank, i’m both pooped and bummed out. pooped and bummed. take that, dictionary mcdictionary.
tomorrow- the schecter variation & the hayflick limit
“For me, noise, and specifically Can’t, was a way of dealing with everything I hated, but over time it became a way of facing my fears. Now it changed again into a very special kind of trust exercise between me and an audience. Playing noise I have a special power to cause emotional discomfort and a physical pain in the ear. But I also have a power to bring about a really unique kind of closeness and shared ecstatic state between performer and audience. I don’t want to say “cathartic” because that sounds too much like the 1980’s, and I don’t want to say “self-actualized” because that’s too much like the 1990’s, and I’m talking about here and now and being in a room with other people in real time having a unique experience that you can’t describe in words. Yeah!”
-jessica rylan, irfp.net.
also: ” I don’t use reverb or delay, or anything that messes with time. The music is an intensely personal investigation of being alive in the instant.”. jessica rylan, you’re the best. no delay!
well, maybe i shouldn’t jump the gun, but i think my sprightly orange friend felix da housecat has gone to the land from which no cats return. it’s been weeks and no sign of him, and living on a somewhat busy road in the woods, woods full of fischer cats, coyotes and foxes, i can’t say this is an unexpected turn. but this does not excuse the sadness. felix was a surprising cat in that he was both a lover and a fighter– doglike in his requests for belly scratching, he would also routinely come home battered and bruised from altercations with neighborhood animals. he kept the mice in check, and only shit outside my door once. it’s possible that someone else picked him up as a stray, and now he’s living in a different luxury. if this is so, felix da housecat, stay tuff. should one of the more conventional outcomes listed above be the case, then felix da housecat, valhalla is yours. should we meet again somehow, remember me as the guy who stood his ground and prevented others from cutting your balls off, even though this might’ve made you more home-bound and prevented your demise at the jaws and talons of forest spirits. no regrets.
ok, stuffed animals from the past few days, including the time i was in providence, away from my seweing machine and all my stuff stuff. but i’m not making excuses, i’m just saying. ok:
a fat gold chain with fist pendant, a
fuzzy sort of prehistoric bird, a most likely somewhat lucky
dragon, a li’l octopus (pictured above), a
ghost that’s been exorcized, a nice little
finger puppet of an elephant,
ghost fog sword, and finally, last night, a
toothbrush, to go with the toothpaste from last week.
fujichia: drop out & eat shit.
