Tuesday, April 30, 2013


(excerpts from an interview on russian public radio)

tell us a little bit about your sea passage over here-

uh...can I start it out with a quote?
ok then... thanks... not exactly sure how this applies... but oh well... in any case... one of my favorites... I think I've got this right... let's see... been a little while, you realize...
take your time, sir...
ok... but what if the so-called journey... circles back around... and absorbs us?
what do you mean, sir?
do the stars... the sea bottom... the foam, the waves, the crustaceans... exist at all, I ask myself sometimes, in the night, in the dark... apart, that is, from your or my experience of them?
(long pause)
your or my experience of the people and inventions around us?
(long pause)
are you really looking for this kind of information on your radio program?
whatever you think applies to your sea passage is relevant.
ok then... let me see here... it took about 25 days... had a contact over here... they needed a caretaker of sorts... were gonna be leaving the area for awhile and wanted someone to look after the property... they hired me... I accepted... I packed my bags and was off...
it happened that fast?
pretty freakin' fast, yeah...
what did you pack?
uh... let's see here... an extra set of clothes, a few books and notebooks, a few photographs, and an ipod stuffed with music and lectures.
ok then... care to give our listeners a few of the titles?
a little later, perhaps...
why later?
I don't think it's relevant now.
what would make it relevant later?
and who's going to come up with that?
I don't know... you're the person in charge here.
not really.
oh... I guess I misunderstood.
yeah, I think you seriously misunderstood.
ok, then... if you absolutely insist... lao tzu... shakespeare... robert burton... montaigne... kafka... beckett... cervantes... joyce... foster wallace... barthelme... neitzsche... derrida... foucault... blanchot... bernhard... a few others...
sounds like a fairly typical listing...
oh, sure... typical in every sense of the term.
maybe not as topical as some in our listening audience might wish...
I don't blame them...
but I'm sensing you don't blame yourself either...
that's true to an extent...
care to sketch out the parameters?
a little later, perhaps...
why later?
same reason that I gave you before...
that was ages ago, sir... remind our listening audience...
lack of context.
well, sir... c'mon! that's what we're trying to establish right now! 
yeah, I get that.
you sure?
of course not.
something to do with the language barrier, probably?
that's a factor, of course... but no, it's much more... fundamental than that...
take for example your authors... many of them have been translations of translations of translations... some of them even extending out into a fourth generation...
more than that, in some cases...
that doesn't seem "fundamental?"
not really.
waking up in the morning?
waking up in the dead of the night?
why would you tell us that, sir?  have you no sense of decorum?
not really.
well... I suppose that's what makes you one of those classic "postmodern" types...
there's a chance...
always a chance...
no matter how slim or desperate...
but that's why you came to this country, right?
in a manner of speaking.
just wanted some time alone with your books, right?
not really.
oh... I guess I misunderstood... once again.
that's ok... we can fix it...
you think we have enough time?
it's your program...
not really... could you possibly come back tomorrow?
not sure... it took quite a bit of time and trouble to get here...
we could put you up in a hotel... all expenses covered by us...
and what exactly would we do tomorrow?
the same thing we're doing right now.
endless misunderstandings, you mean?
yes... and their attempted repair...
I don't know... I still don't think there's near enough context to make the effort worthwhile...
well that's what we're doing here, sir... this very moment...
there's a hotel fairly nearby?
practically next door, sir...
what if I stayed for a week, and we met maybe 3 or 4 more times altogether?
that would be fantastic, sir.
ok, then.  I guess we have a rough plan.
we do indeed, sir.
(long pause)
where were we?
you had just listed some authors.
oh, right... I'm remembering...
you wanted to start with a quote...


Monday, April 29, 2013

utter amazement

therewereanumberofcelebrationsgoingonyesterday.  it makes sense, I told myself.  didn't even need to solemnly lower my gaze and ask why anymore.  good ol' bud dry was available.  it's more or less that time of year.  that distinctive subset or cluster of moments when people go outside in casual dress and start celebrating.  jumping up and down energetically in pure, unadulterated excitement.  slapping high-fives over and over for no discernible reason.  I approached them, somewhat timidly.  they made a semi-sincere welcoming gesture.  I responded with a similar gesture of semi-sincere acceptance and gratitude.  before I knew what was happening, an immense jumble of spoken words was cascading wildly forth from my mouth.  then I paused, took several deep breaths, and regained my composure, while a different but semi-related jumble, much more immense, cascaded wildly forth into my ears.  my brain was quiet, more or less, unaffected by the pulsing sense impressions sparking on and off in the ecosystem surrounding us.  there was a little campfire crackling.  s'mores were also available.  for several moments we examined our innermost motivations.

there were also a number of seductions moving full steam ahead.  some people brought their favorite animals.  some people brought musical instruments.  some people went behind the barn and ingested organic mind-altering chemicals.  some people slapped their thighs in pure amazement.  they couldn't believe that somebody actually said that!  in public!  some people dropped out of the conversation altogether and buried their noses in books or personal handheld devices.  some people climbed up trees. some tunneled into the earth.  some set their clothing on fire.  some danced very primitive jigs.  others danced jigs that were very much "up to the minute."  when I asked them for professional/financial advice they suddenly warmed to my presence and obliged me immediately.  when I looked certain terms up in my pocket dictionary because I couldn't understand their particular usage they referred to my communication habits as "peculiar on certain occasions", which I took as a compliment, and not just in the semi-privacy of my own mineral skull, but overtly, by giving expression to the bizarre things I was thinking and feeling at that very moment in time.  there was some good-natured chuckling, some hearty slaps on the shoulder and back, a few empty stares, and a few moments of the perennially undefined and semi-awkward silence.

there were a number of journalists in attendance.  some of them "scanned the horizon."  there were some comments related to weather, and some of those comments led to amusing personal anecdotes.  a lot of new ideas being presented, and a lot of old ideas being discredited.  heads were spinning.  mouths were moving up and down for various reasons.  the entire region was picnicking.  a "multi-species affair", one might call it.  audaciously, we left our troubles behind for a spell.  later on, when we returned home, they would still be there, waiting patiently.

until then, though, we celebrated in the most earnest and legitimate way that we knew.  insiders, outsiders, front and side and back porchers, root cellar explorers,  patio gamesters, attic lurkers, nappers in lawn chairs, master gardeners, roamers thru backyards and alleys, etc.  at times it felt like this was indeed the "moment we all had been waiting for"- at other times it felt like a mere extension of the previous but now almost totally forgotten "seasonal neighborhood gathering".  oh well, I heard some of the people muttering to themselves or each other.  take it as it comes, I heard a disembodied voice intone on the radio.  we danced in rings, danced alone, danced as the sun started setting, continued dancing even as certain people began to fall to the ground from exhaustion.  the barrel of bud dry was emptied so we all crouched down next to the river and gulped many mouthfuls from this so-called primordial source.  feeling refreshed, we returned to our former activities.  it makes sense, I assured myself- doesn't matter what voices I hear on the radio.  these are the people I live with.  we track each other's personal development closely and carefully.

it was late at night when I decided it was finally time to head back to the outpost.  I took a shortcut thru the junkyard, and then walked along the tracks for awhile, playing some of the evening's conversations back on my handheld device.  sometimes I scavenge material from social events like the one just described. other times I just leave it there, gathering dust, like a fossil.      


Sunday, April 28, 2013

on site

(portion of another recent email from evan)

I experienced another one of my classic hunger attacks again late last night... recalled to the site of heavy echo industrialization and panics.  you're probably thinking to yourself, there should be modern medicine for this, and there is- I've even met with an eminent endocrinologist out here.  a little bit of a language barrier, obviously, but with the assistance of a few pocket dictionaries we were finally able to kinda sorta "understand" one another.  you're probably thinking to yourself, there should be a slick computer program for this, and there is- not to mention much more sophisticated ones coming out every quarter.  why don't you just take a pill?  eliminate your hunger issues forever?  touchy matters, heavy matters, highly sensitive/delicate matters.  human subjects have always tended to be fairly protective of the energy that goes into their food.  the food itself comes and goes.  the energy just changes form.  if there's a kink in the system it's usually immediately noticeable.  even out here, yes, in the authentic middle of nowhere.  bunker mentality has its pros and its cons.  waking up in the dead of the night, reaching up and touching the ceiling, reaching to either side and caressing the cinders...

...you're probably thinking to yourself what does this have to do with actual hunger?  I wouldn't know how to answer that.  however, that's not saying I wouldn't try answering, especially if the question kept coming up, as it has been.  a massive pile of food down there, probably enough for 25 years... enough books, enough water, enough batteries, enough videos, enough daily transcripts from the civilization that lived here before us, enough music, both pre-recorded and the type composed directly on site.  a simple life, you might be thinking, and you would be more or less in the vicinity of a viable answer.  these so-called "attacks" are probably more of a commentary on this unnatural state of "abundance" or "rawness."  when you ask about other people, and I give you one of my classic blank stares, and then start to thumb thru pocket dictionaries for the bizarre foreign words that might help yield us both a short space of semi-fictional "clarity"...

...the details aren't worth getting into.  just imagine two feral animals.  a long stake-out, a hunt-down, a fierce battle, then victory.  blood and innards.  bones cracking.  detritus thrown or spit off to the side for the insects.  eating to the point where the organism is no longer out, in or upwardly mobile.  the "mind" is locked up as well, frozen, as it were and still just might be, gazing up into the "stars" and other various holographic "datas" , "canyons", and "rivers."  all of this endless hassle just to stay alive, and for what?  the authentic middle of everything.  "the core of the earth", it's been nicknamed...

and then, of course, the "dreamwork", about which you are constantly asking... 

let us imagine a "training ground."  an "open field."  a "greensward."  let us imagine, but for a moment, the sense of these things actually happening.  once again, I can hear you thinking aren't these more along the lines of locations? and my only response to that would be to let or allow us a "wilderness."  in the classic civic fashion, we would temporarily "rent out" the wilderness.  the word itself has been censored, mocked, and discredited almost to the point of... well, a semi-honest profession... of... faithlessness.  and yet, don't forget, just for the record: these are all just opinions here!  

let us not imagine that we can merely lie down or collapse late at night, quite alone, weary from another's day's near incessant activity, the "dreamwork" just another local chapter from which the body of the text has itself been extracted, and left to sleep, still quite alone, while the dream-figures commence their own shift of private grueling labor...   



Saturday, April 27, 2013

some sand is homeless

the breath was, 
among other things
in and out, 
our nature screens
wretched pasts, 
wretched titles,
sucked it in
lessen forms 
subtle breathwork
which in turn
honest pat-downs 
parasites diametrically juxtaposed, 
lost and discarded i-toms,
in an outlying, underformed riverbed 
wretched beyond all description
of fern-breathing, 
echo forms,
in and out of use, 
just like other things
wracked by post, watched by titles,
lesson forms 
crystal methwork
disappointed beyond all conscription
branded new, semi-glistering, 
piped in direct via factory,
ageless turns conjoin happy meals
scientifically juxtaposed, 
inside water rings,
eyes and faces akimbo
on concrete, other life terms,
in and out of daily use, just like other things
flanked by ghosts, staked in lilies,
a collective spring slurry born well outside grammatology
less in form signs 
or substitutes
new anointed and hinterlocked,
e-recycling, rust-breathing, 
anti-techtonica rivulets 
siphoned direct from the Bibliography's 
Field Guild to Ether And Mineral
time was, still, regardless, 
aprogramatically juxtaposed, 
seemingly "without a substantive care in the world"...

Thursday, April 25, 2013


(let me begin with a confession: "my own writing sessions became these things that could barely be countenanced.")  

(that's ok.  i was used to it.  for some reason, i was already used to it!  and my reading sessions?  puh-lease!!!  puh-lease don't ask about them!  if i didn't know any better i would say that they too could hardly be countenanced!  i know, i know, i know- ok?  not such a terrible thing.  "being countenanced" has always been a little bit overrated, i feel.  we venture out, venture in, up the stairs, take off our coats, go to the counter, order something, and then start to take our own little orders in turn.  a harmonious system.  writing seasons incarnate.  they become "things", and then, if you're lucky, they pass over into the realm of "ideas."  gathering news clips from the shop floor, cuttings from the dying utopia... gosh. tony's poetry started to seem more and more like almost pure machination.)  

(but that's ok!  i've stated that!  i was already prepared!  i had been prepared for several years, but didn't mind the protracted wait in the slightest!  what's the sickest thing that could happen?  did tony become a little bit lazier, possibly?  and again- is that really, given the context, the worst thing that could happen in a crisis situation like this one?  venturing past, then across, then down the hill to the strip, looking for cardboard, insulation, a history of the alleged "key things and ideas"...)

(those were bizarre years in pittsburgh.  tony seemed to finally "come into his own."  and that's not necessarily meant to imply a healthy or desirable thing, btw.  "his own" was a makeshift (something) down by the ohio river.  there was an old man who lived there.  there were no children, women, or animals.  i've already outlined this bizarre period of his life in my published "writing experiments", so to try and do it again, here, in this makeshift of virtual speaking...)

(oh well.  i'm a player.  i attended the dog show.  then the horse show, the owl show, the lily show, and the shawl show.  i bought one of each, and them donated them to respective foundations.  there was no way i was going to be able to keep that many creatures alive.)  

Sunday, April 14, 2013


(part of a recent email from evan)

I want to tell you something about what happened the 15th night I arrived here.  I met a world famous painter on a bench by the river.  we got to talking a little, and she asked if I wanted to see a few works in progress.  I accepted.  we walked back to her studio.  they were relatively familiar.  a very similar style to her recent body of work.  she's also doing a massive installation at the airport, and said she can usually always use help if somebody has any extra time on his or her hands.  it's not a paid position, she assured me.  it's a collaboration of sorts.  does it come as any surprise that I agreed to check out the site?  I met her there a few days later.  she was right about needing help!  there's this gigantic space she has to work with.  and a huge pile of scavenged material to hang, combine, and arrange.  she also has a rickety old farmhouse in the suburbs where she lets people like me stay if it's necessary.  she decided after a couple of days it was necessary.  as you can probably guess, I didn't have anything better to do, say, or imagine.  that might sound a little ungrateful but that's how unconcerned I've become about formal literary, performance, music, and visual art undertakings.  this famous artist "likes my style" apparently.  I like hers as well.  it's really easy to work with her.  simple.  no pressure.  natural.  yes, even though we're working in an airport I use the word "natural."

anyways, one night there was this terrible blizzard and every single flight was either cancelled, rescheduled, or delayed.  the place was crawling with travelers who had no idea what to do next.  we wandered around from encampment to encampment, trying to get a rough estimate on how many languages were being spoken simultaneously...

...she e-voked, re-formed, and pre-sented me... but that's how it's always been with these world famous artists...



(another email from rick)

why is this happening?
nobody knows why this is happening.

could you please tell william I'm ok?
even though I'm not ok?

just kidding.  not really.
I'm way way better than ok.
it really has helped to leave the u.s. for awhile.
I'm drifting around eastern europe right now.
I still have a "home base" of sorts in russia.
everything pretty much worked out as planned
in regards to the house-sitting gig.
I'm picking up a few foreign languauges
and then quietly putting them back.
this nomadic life is weird.
but centralized life is weird also.
I have time for everything.
for the first time in my life I have time for everything.

since I've been away I've been going by the name evan raymer.  an arbitrary decision.  not really sure why I did it.  it blends in a bit better.  I can move through cities like vapor.  tell william that I'm deeply grateful for his patience and openness.  I've been lucky beyond all expectation.  to the point where I'm not sure what's appropriate to expect anymore- some days it seems like nothing.  other days it seems like the opposite.  


Friday, April 12, 2013


(3 emails arrived from rick in quick succession from an undisclosed location.)

hello friends-

there are a lot of things I would like to put on the table right at first... countless things, which... I would like to... leave there... and we could all be still... all be silent... we could let these countless things speak for themselves... for a change... from every conceivable angle... every nook and digital cranny... but I don't want to be reckless or careless about it this time.  this will probably be the first of several preliminary emails overviewing and outlining what and how I see this carnival re-enactment unfolding.

(rick- what the f are you talking about???)

firstly and mainly, thank you thank you thank you.  thank you for giving this piece, me, and yourselves a chance to see what transpires... what this transaction might lead to... what this transition follows...

(did you cross the black sea as intended, old friend?)

I have some fairly clear ideas and suggestions for how this thing might unfold, both in the preparatory stages and then the actual performance on the 15th of march .  however, I want to stress that I am, I think, very permeable, very fluid, very open to your input, in regards to both the general stuff and the specific stuff.  

(is it possible, rick, that there's already too much "stuff" in regards to this project?)

recently I have been hovering in a place I've sometimes been calling "radical honesty."  as a writer/artist, an editor, a friend, a family/community member, whatever- whatever role presents itself, whatever situation presents itself, I've been trying to approach and move thru with as much transparency and clarity as possible.  (but also taking into consideration the various contexts and varying channels of honesty that are     already           up                   and                     running              or                   aren't-          sometimes trying to re-establish or repair or create from scratch new pathways, other        times              waiting                    it   out,                waiting           

for                                  a                      better     or 
               more                        "appropriate"                               

                         context.  when                             I 




            I          don't       mean    shock   tactics or relishing dredging up or poking around in dark corners just for the thrill of it.  I think that "radical honesty" has a time and place when it is helpful, and a time and place when it is not- when silence, patience, acceptance, and the awareness that even "honesty" has its limitations- in the sense of, "I think I'm being honest right now, I think I'm aware of my intentions right now, but actually there are probably other layers of "truth" and intention that are way       way             way 
      way                     way                         way 

                  way                                              way 



    way      way             way w ay w  ayway   wa y  way way waywaywa     y w    ay         w ay   w a y wa y        way   w    ay w  ay        way         w               ay w      ay  

       w    ay w                       ay       w       a 

                 y  wa                  y    w           ay     

       w          ay         w      a y     way way way beyond my scope.  I'm just working with what what's in front of me now- all of that will probably change in an hour, I will probably change in an hour, you'll probably change in an hour, I'll have to be prepared to adjust, you'll have to be prepared to adjust, modify, re-strategize, whatever.  things    are         only               happening            right    now.           in          a   very   real  way I can only account for right now."  

anyways, in regards to collaboration, fluidity, flexibility, compromise- as an artist who has spent the vast majority of his creative energy on solitary projects such as poetry, short stories, photographs, and collages, I am accustomed to being in more or less "total creative control."  this project with you three and maybe other people in the future is a deliberate shift toward synergy...  shared energy, shared inspiration, shared outcomes, etc...

(ok rick... if you say so...)

just about an hour ago ago I came up with the name insect noises incorporated for my performance/ dance/ collaborative undertakings.  not only is this phrase cool sounding on its own, it also points to a certain aesthetic orientation I aspire to sometimes.  

as you are all well aware, at certain times of the year, insect noises are a basic and unavoidable part of reality.  bird noises, machine noises, wind noises, kitchen noises, media noises, roommate noises, neighbor noises, whatever- some variation of this stuff is usually always with us, coming, going, reappearing, maybe a little different, maybe very similar- instead of shutting it out and trying to make and experience art/life in an illusory self-contained and self-generated vacuum (one of my long-standing tendencies),  with certain projects I aspire to incorporate, subtly or overtly, the other presences in the immediate or even distant environment.  this suggests a willingness to cede some control- to allow the other presences inside the process and maybe speak for themselves, if that's possible.  if that's not possible, maybe serve as a translator.  (for example: an early evening performance in the summer here at the cottage could include overt references to the cicada/cricket noises coming in thru the windows.  or if one of us broke our arm and had it in a sling, we could write new material regarding the accident into the script.  or we could reference a media event of the day before.  we could use our realities.  we could use whatever presents itself.  as crazy and scary as that sounds, we could try it.)   

(uh... ... ... ah... ... ... oh... ... ... eh?)

because the four of us have somewhat different backgrounds, somewhat different values, somewhat different areas of interest and emphasis, this remaining "radically open" to our collective but also personal "insect noises" could be sorta complicated.  it could be like too many cooks in the kitchen.  too many voices.  too many influences.  at a certain point we would need to narrow down the possibilities, establish some focus points, and start putting things into place.  whatever is left over, not used, not "relevant" could be mulched into the next piece.  that's one of the benefits of us maybe considering the possibility of a new piece a few months down the road, maybe in september or october.  it could be a process.  an ongoing relationship between the pieces and us.  

anyways, the working title for the piece for march 15th is waking up from a nightmare.  

it starts out with me under a blanket curled up in a recliner, twitching and mumbling in the classic "having a nightmare" fashion.  my cell phone rings, waking me up.  I jolt up in the chair, a bit confused and disoriented, then realize I was just having a bad dream- I'm back in "reality" now, my phone is ringing, I rub my eyes, clear my throat, and answer the call.

it is all three of you on the line.  (you will be outside in the driveway, in a car, so as not to be heard by the audience except thru the phone.  you are all talking at once, a confusion and tangle of voices and shouting, a sense of urgency, sense of worry, sense of some disagreement about how best to proceed-  I become flustered and say "ok, hold on- let me put you on speakerphone."  I then put my phone on speaker mode so that the audience can better hear this confusion and tangle of voices and shouting.  (I have some ideas for this "dialogue" but am open to suggestions.  in a certain way, it doesn't even matter what is being said by the three of you at this point because it is all so jumbled together.)

after a minute of so, I ask you where you are.  again, a jumble and tangle of responses. I ask: "how soon can you get here?"  again, a jumble and tangle.  I start trying to ask some follow up questions and at this point you all barge in thru the front door, all on your own cell phones, all still talking simultaneously, still arguing and responding to each other obliquely.  I slump back in the recliner and let it just play out for a couple of minutes.  whether you three quiet down on your own or need me to intervene remains open.

anyways, I see the three of you as being the representatives/ ambassadors/ mediators of the "nightmare/dream/reality."  not only my own personal nightmare/dream/reality but the larger family, community, ecological, national, international and even cosmic n/d/r.  and I am a component of yours!  at times, each one of you will become the dreamer and another will take your place as the dreamed.  each of you at some point will be in the recliner twitching under the blanket, while the others try to help you and/or make sense of the situation somehow.

maybe four-fifths thru the piece you all disappear out the front door, and I am left in a sort of daze.  again I rub my eyes, clear my throat, drink a glass of water, then proceed to get up, get dressed, pack a few things in a back-pack, put on a jacket, turn off all the lights, and exit out the front door.

I'm guessing the piece will be between 20 and 25 minutes long.  I'm still trying to decide about which music might fit and where, and again am very open to your advice in this matter.

believe it or not, this was originally conceived of as a solo performance, but after thinking it thru further, I realized how much more dynamic and informative it could be with collaborators.  and not just any old collaborators.  I picked the three of you very specifically.  something about the unique mix and range of our four personalities/perspectives/energies strikes me as very promising.   

I guess I see waking up... as a piece that could have multiple variations.  different dreamers, different ambassadors, different types of dream and dream imagery.  maybe we could talk about this stuff.  in fact, I'm not all that invested in being the original dreamer.  if one of you wants to start it out twitching and muttering under a blanket in the recliner, I would be more than happy to join the crew of ambassadors.  we could talk about this stuff.

I'll leave it at that for now.  there's plenty of other little details I could mention, but I want to start with the most basic and then gradually move toward the specific.  besides, I don't want to specify too much in the areas that remain open to collaboration and improvisation.  please please please write me back or call me with any questions, comments, etc. if you email, and if you think your questions/comments would be relevant/helpful to the others, send it as a group email, so we can all sort of be on the same page as we move thru this process.

I know that life is problematic and unpredictable and as much as I'm into the four of us doing this thing together, I know that scheduling can be difficult and sometimes emergencies come up, even on the week or day of a performance.  because I originally envisioned this as a solo piece, I'm prepared to go thru with it even if all three of you come down with pneumonia.  I sincerely hope you do not and can hang in there until the 15th and maybe even beyond, but just know that I know that life is so not under control. 

there might be one or two follow up emails to this later today or tomorrow.

no pressure to respond right away.

rehearsals will probably be commencing next week.  it would be really helpful to find a time when we could all meet together.



hello again-

I've been immersing myself the past couple of days in the music that I have in mind for waking up...  since the time I conceived of the piece about 3 weeks ago until now I've been thru 3 different playlist/sequences, each one quite different from the others.  I feel that the music selection will be a critical determinant of how this piece unfolds and comes to fruition.

this might be the first element regarding which I could use some direct input/feedback.  maybe the first couple rehearsals will be more along the lines of listening sessions.  or, if the spirit moves us, little unofficial charade/dance parties masquerading as rehearsals. 

I think we might all benefit from some kind of informal/ introductory/ investigative movement warm-up exercises so as to get a better feel for each other's movement/ performance styles and the ways that we can most effectively and naturally cohere.  I think seeing some of this up close will help me/us better arrange/sequence the piece.  any ideas/ suggestions?

as far as when and where to rehearse-

personally, I think the fewer distractions/ interruptions the better, but I'm remembering also what I said a few days ago about getting "out of the bubble" and "ceding control" and remaining "open to accidents, ambiance, the environment, etc." 

my place is pretty chilled out for the most part.  fae and shane are both in and out a fair amount, but I think we/they could adjust.

I have stuff going on this coming week on tuesday afternoon and wednesday morning.  what do people think about finding an evening time slot?


ok gang-

I've been playing around with a new variation.  this one more along the lines of a mime/dream sequence.  instead of presenting the situation of a person having and waking up from a dream, we will present the dream imagery itself.  our goal would be to trick the audience into thinking it was already home in bed and having a crazy crazy dream.  because it will be late at night and they will probably be a little tired, drunk, and already mesmerized by the previous acts, I think this is doable.  they'll be like putty in our hands!

I've been zeroing in on 5 songs.  the first is aguirre, a piece taken from popul vuh's soundtrack to the werner herzog film of the same name.


in this opening sequence we are are all together on the "stage."  sort of circling each other, slowly, cautiously, suspiciously.  sorta like animals who don't entirely know or trust each other as yet.  maybe some tentative reaching out, playful swipes, pokes, sniffs, etc, in the sense of "are you real?"   "are you tangible?"   "are you safe?"   "do you understand my way of relating?"   "do we have a common ancestor?"   "do we have interests in common?"

I also have this image of people walking thru a dark forest dense with vines and spanish moss and underbrush and thorny plants, and having to proceed very carefully, slowly, constantly brushing vines and thorns away from the path of "progress"...

anyways, at some point the "main" character, either martin gray (if tomas or me)  or mary gray (if glint or pony) drifts out of the circle, towards a different part of the stage, where there is a recliner and a small nightstand with a small lamp, some books, a cell phone, a pitcher of water, a glass, and a basin.  martin/mary proceeds to get ready for bed.  the others are still circling, interacting, but their movements are becoming slower and dreamier.

mary/martin strips down to some sort of sleeping garb.  underwear, tights, t-shirt- whatever the actor is comfortable with.  m/m does a few stretches, yawns, has a drink of water, checks something on the cell phone, then climbs into the recliner, gets under the blanket, gets in a comfortable position, and falls immediately to sleep.

aguirre (6 minutes) will be ending right around this time.  just as m/m is falling asleep, the others have become completely motionless also, maybe in the gnarled, tangled up positions of trees.

the next song is concrete walls by fever ray.

for about 2 minutes there is absolutely no movement on stage.  m/m is sleeping, the other people are trees.  

around 2 minutes into concrete walls, subtle movement begins.  the tree people start swaying gently like trees do in a breeze.  m/m starts twitching and muttering.  the gentle swaying gradually turns into the trees getting rocked by gale force winds and the twitching and muttering turns into convulsions and screaming.  

this all comes to a sudden end when the song ends, at which point m/m fall out of the recliner and the trees fall to the floor.  everyone is on the floor, sort of waking up, shaking their heads, rubbing their eyes- the trees are asking each other in quiet voices:  you ok?  you ok?  that was a pretty bad storm...  you lost a few branches too?  you sure you're ok?  the trees sort of start to inspect each other for damage, sit up, stand up, brush themselves off, continue talking quietly, supportively, maybe a little laughter.

the third song is europe a prophecy by rio en medio.  this is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard in my life.  

the trees look over and notice m/m has fallen back asleep.  they seem concerned and go over to wake him/her up.  doesn't happen. even after shaking m/m, yelling at m/m, pouring some water on m/m's face, doesn't happen.  however, they don't freak out at all.  they're sorta like: "no big deal, this happens all the time- m/m is a really heavy sleeper.  let's try and get him/her back in the recliner."
the trees struggle to get the totally inert m/m back into the recliner, but they do.  they tuck m/m back in under the blanket.  

at this point all three of the tree's cell phone rings.  they all answer and proceed to have conversations.  they can be as chilled out or animated as each individual tree prefers.

these conversations begin about the same time the fourth song begins, pulk/pull revolving doors by radiohead. this is one of the most tripped out songs I've ever heard in my life.

(this video is pretty tripped out as well- just discovered it today)

anyways, this sequence remains open ended.  trees talking on their phones, trees talking to each other, trees dancing, trees embracing, whatever-

the final song is ash in the rainbow by haco + sakamoto.

(this is a video fae uploaded a few years ago.  the actual song is closer to 6 minutes long.)

anyways, this is sort of the fade out/resolution sequence.  the trees leave the stage, one by one, over the course of a couple of minutes.   m/m remains asleep and motionless in the recliner.  after about 45 more seconds of motionlessness, m/m suddenly wakes up with a start- rubs his/her eyes, has a drink of water, checks his/her cell phone for the time, exclaims "holy shit!" and springs up out of the recliner and starts getting dressed in a big hurry.  puts the 
cell phones, the books, and the glass into a backpack, switches off the lamp, and leaves the stage.  there should be another minute or so left of ash in the rainbow .  thus ends the piece, or at least this potential variation of the piece.

any thoughts?


(nothing comes to mind at the moment, friend.)

(but stay on the line... please... give me a second to gather my thoughts...)

(ok... I'm remembering... wait... what does this word mean: "remembering"?... maybe it doesn't mean anything... along the lines of... what we were... taught... do you remember what... we were taught?... here and there... bits and pieces... should we consult our old diaries... do they still even exist?)

they exist.

ok, then. 

at least we have that much to go on.

not a lot... not a little... not a nice mid-range either...
well... how much then?  and how far back do we have to go in deep history?
pretty far, I'm afraid...
no need to be afraid, unnamed person.
oh... ok, then... well... I guess I won't be afraid, then!  if you're telling me there's no need, and since everything you say turns out to be true... well... I may as well start cutting merry capers right here and now!
that's your perogative, unnamed person.
thanks, but I already knew that...

(the truth of the matter was that we were simply unable to wipe out the "past."  as much as we may have wanted to, as much as such a maneuver may have benefited society... the "truth" of the matter became increasingly tangled... even after talking for a very long time on the telephone... even after meeting in person... even after submitting our proposals in writing... the pith of the conflict remained completely intact... there was no getting around it... there was no reliable camouflage...people could see thru our most sophisticated devices with a cursory glance... gosh... should such a thing really surprise us?  didn't we essentially ask to be thrown into the lion's den?  some people answer yes to this question, other people say the simple word "no", but, predictably, 95 percent or more respond with these two words: it depends.)

"depends on what?" we go on to ask them.  and there's no clear answer forthcoming.  some people don't even mind this.  some people actively like this.  this "liking" behavior has filtered all the way down into the social media universe, which is yet another way of re-positioning the few fragments of "truth" that still remain in the data base... there are, of course, a bunch of fantasies still in wide circulation, and yes, those tend to be much more "entertaining"... "engaging" ...and of course, let's not forget "interesting"... fairy tales, for the most part, are operational way way beyond innocent childhood...

ok, then...unnamed person... at least we have that much to go on...
not a whole lot, you were sayin?
not a whole little, either?
(longer pause)
maybe a nice mid-range, maybe?
(longest pause yet)
no, the mid-range is no longer applicable either.
(short pause)
aw, crap!  I held out a lot of hope for the mid-range!
a lot of folks do...
so what are you're saying then?  that they're living in a fantasy world?
I don't know what I'm saying, unnamed person.
maybe you're just filling the time?
there's a chance of that, yes...
hey, don't worry... you're not the only one in that category.
never said that I was.
well... never doesn't know what she's talking about!
she does seem a little unhinged sometimes...
very true.
completely true.
unquestionably and totally true.
I've never come across anything so true in my life!!!