Tuesday, May 28, 2013


[excerpt from 1986 interview between calvin trill and evan raymer]

"... my *look*, believe it or not, more and more began to resemble a sandbox of semi-random or time-warped ideas... a sand of forms... a *sand labyrinth*... or... even a classic sand mandala-face... as it were... if you will... maybe... not..."     (pause)     "...colored sand, you were sayin?"  "not really, evan..."  "not (really?) natural sand?"  "no... *totally* natural, totally immersion-based sand..."  "my 'look'... if it's even accurate to identify it by such a name any more... very slowly began to conform to other people's notion of what is sometimes referred to as *the good life*..."    (pause)    "you hanker after *the good life* on occasion then?"        (pause)        "naw... i got that completely out of my system during that year in new orleans..."  "oh, I see..."  "no, calvin... i don't (really?) think that you do..."  "fair enough..."  "i suppose... that's always been one of my ostensible strong points..."  "who told you that?"                 "people."                 "which people?"                 "certain people down by the interstate overpass... anonymous network of swamps... semi-linked paths to oblivion..."  "sand mandalas as in temporary, eventually blown/washed away by the elements?"  "pretty much classically transient..."  "crouched down low to the earth and the mud and all that?"         (pause)         "so low, in fact, that most people can't detect..."                      (wait)                  "...can't detect what?"  "that the so-called look was in essence, or at its core, *coming apart at the seams*... at its spine..."  *that sounds pretty serious...*  "well, evan... what can i say?  i'm a *relatively serious sculptor*..."  "but you have your light-hearted side, too..."  "that's just another part of being a relatively serious sculptor..."             ("incredibly long pause")           "people still go to disney movies in droves, do they not?"       "evan... disney movies are *the bomb*..."       "shoulda known that..."       "yeah... shoulda kept that knowledge tucked away in the studio..."     "not fair... not radical... not in step with *the good life*..."  "f the ostensible good life, you lepton..."  "ok...  (pause)  ...i will then..."  "i will them to appear and make tears inside the mandala..."  "you're a mind reader, calvin..."  "yeah... that's always been one of my ostensible strong points..."

Monday, May 20, 2013


it began (o as usual) with a couple of innocent fevered blue ray-wilderness lyrics:

...when i grow up

i want to be a forester
run thru the moss on high heels
that's what i'll do
throwin' out a boomerang
waiting for it to come back to me...

(and then, for those in the know, the actual sound of the boomerang, hurled out, with great force, spinning wildly, rapidly, disappearing once more thru the lattice of purple shadows and leavings.)

...so splintered ...so what does that mean for the wilderness?...

took the splice around back to the little woodland we conjured there.  put on an ipod stuffed with hard-core, glitch, and emo.  greensward appeared to be following quietly.  nobody appeared to be reluctantly leading.  the soft hum, blending overnight with the sway of the canyon, the hacked-to-pieces gently tumbled in with the glistening tendrils and spiderwebs.

...i want to live near the sea

crab claws and bottles of rum
that's what i'll portray...

...staring at the sea with shell...

...waiting for it to embrace these ...

oh sure, private names...

oh all the way... dynamite hidden between certain memories...
what about uncertain memories? 

i put my soul in what i do

last night i drew a funny man 
with dark eyes and a hanging tongue
it goes way back...

...it never liked that sad look

from some poor ancient sky-god 
who wants/needs/dreams about 
being loved by you at some point...

it began, started spinning, well-designed/ carved/ oiled/ painted/ and executed, spinning madly, ecstatically, thru the brilliant fall colors, flaming and dropping like spent flares at the bare feet of our anonymous "mailbox."  

it put my soul in what x does also.  (didn't know there was any other alternative!)

it goes way back indeed.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

reschedule me pretty please

a system
b system
c system
d system

e henry marston, historically known as the “person”-
f “I regarded him as a powerful ally.”  
g and then a similar phrase repeated over again, systematically,
h this time without the incoherent italics: to wit,
i regarded him as an occasional semi-powerful alloy.

(questions upon which to buoy up ancient civilizations.)

my original intention was to secure lodgings downtown. a person b person c person d person etc. is alive and needs shelter, alive and requires some sort of reliable fuel source. a great window, overlooking a great river also, whispers something- what is it? what is the transparency whispering? wish i knew, i heard her saying... wish i had something semi-concrete to show for it...

...your skeleton isn't enough? (I respond.) your finger nails? your eyeballs? oh, those things are more than enough... wish i didn't have so much detritus backed up on the hard drive. (she responds.) well, dump it back into the ocean, then. all of it? no. just a representative sample. will you help me select? dunno- how long you think it's going to take? dunno- it depends on how carefully i want to comb thru your archives...

not a woodland... a valley.
not a valley... a watercourse.
not water, of course, and not necessarily taoism either.
not necessarily taoism and not necessarily not taoism's ancient mosaic and library.
not culture, not ether, not animal, not vegetable, not mineral.
is that enough information?
no, not nearly enough information.

a indeed this may have been a mistake on the anthropologists part.  
b venturing out into nature- indeed, probably another tv-based opportunity lost in the reverberation of lab-based and mind-biased periodic constituents. the table of elements. the fable of an oceanographer's destiny.
c what of henry’s first wave of ideas? second wave of ideas? third wave of ideas? fourth wave of ideas? fifth wave of ideas? sixth wave of ideas? seventh wave of ideas? eighth wave of ideas? ninth wave of of ideas? tenth wave of ideas? eleventh wave of ideas? twelfth wave of ideas? thirteenth wave of ideas? fourteenth wave of ideas? fifteenth wave of ideas? etc?  
d "not the most successful ideas, maybe, I think you were sayin' just a minute ago?" "well, murphy, i suppose that's just another question that the courts will have to decide."
e not the sort of ideas that would inspire a crowd of strangers to gather together?  maybe inside of the home?  or rather, out in public somewhere?  

(the public sphere-share becomes the “arena” in which we are able to “craft” certain ideas. the public skill-share, the crest fall, the star-chamber matter of factnesses.)  

(old people, young people, middle-aged people, other people, other categories and strategies for remaining what is sometimes termed "barely intact.")

f henry marston, the subject/object- gazing out into the emptiness.  
g and then a similar phrase repeated over and over again, this time without the same radii of devastating italics-
h gazing out into the ostensible nothingness.  

what would you do if you were henry?
what would you do if you were no longer henry?

(questions to think about
on one's back in one's dark.)

o citi
burned hand shakes
crumbling bridges

the good, old, and dead world
maybe not so good, old and dead after all...

o horray
o horray

reclaimed internet sea and dust coinages...
this is how the old world goes to sleep,
falls off the cliff,
jumps the boxcar, etc...

how the new world wakes from sleep,
pauses and waits by the cliff,
waves goodbye to the boxcar disappearing into a system b system c system d system e this may have been a mistake on my part f venturing out into "nature" g indeed maybe another mess of tics and community shudders.  

what about all of henry’s great ideas?
or was there still anyone living there?
the cliff, the canyon, the boxcar, 
the depreciated internet currencies?
what about all of henry’s memories?
were they completely discarded?
hypothesize for me, please, this time it will probably make all of the difference!

o horray

o horray
o come and see where i'm living now

ok, sure...

here’s goes nothing, then, fella! 

the moment he “published” them they were ostensibly "everyone’s"...

the village tailor
the cooper
the cobbler
the goldsmith
the brewer

(powerful friends, terms, and allies)

(repeated over and over again)


Friday, May 3, 2013

a buggy

(the following conversation kept circling around in my skull last night for some reason.)

cowboy< howdy.

adam< howdy to you.
cowboy< beautiful evenin'.
adam< yeah.
cowboy< sure wanna thank ya fer comin' all the way up here to see me from that nice hotel downtown. 
adam< no problem- what's on your mind?
cowboy< well now!  here's a man who wants to get right down to it!  kinda anxious to get to it, are ya?
adam< whatever.
cowboy< a man's attitude... a man's attitude goes some ways... the way his life will be.  is that somethin' you might agree with?
adam< sure.
cowboy< now did you answer because that's what you thought I wanted to hear, or did you think about what I said, and answer, because you truly believe that to be right?
adam< I agree with what you said... truly.
cowboy< what'd I say?
adam< that a man's attitude determines to a large extent how his life will be.
cowboy< so since you agree, you must be a person who does not... care about the good life.
adam< how's that?
cowboy< well stop for a little second... and think about it.  can you do that for me?
adam< (laughs) ok.  I'm thinkin'.
cowboy< no, you're not thinkin'.  you're too busy bein' a smart alek to be thinkin'.  now I want you to think, and stop bein' a smart alek.  can you try that for me?
adam< look- where is this going?  or what do you want me to do?
cowboy< there's sometimes a buggy... how many drivers does a buggy have?
adam< one.
cowboy< so let's just say I'm drivin' this buggy.  and if you fix your attitude, you can ride along with me...

(it circled deep, long, and extremely late both into the night and my skull.)  

(((((((((((( (((  )))))))))))  (  (( (((((((((   ()))))))))))))))))))) )))))))))))))))))))(((((((((((((            ))))))))) (    (  )))  )()((   )))) ( ( (( ((( )) )   ) ) ) ) ) ) (   ( )  ) ))))( ( ( )))))  (the reasons became clear eventually but I was loathe to acknowledge them.)   )))))))))))  (( ) )))))))))))(((((((((((  ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) (((((((((((())))))))))))))))  ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))     (((((((((((((((((   ((((((((((((((( ((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  )))))))))  ))))))))))))))))))))))))   ((((((((((((   ) )))))))))))))))))